


Can I Break Down Your Walls?

by NightsLikeThis



Category: WWE, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Angst, Baysha endgame, Cute, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Neighbors, Pining, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-01-20 19:22:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 22
Words: 54,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18531532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightsLikeThis/pseuds/NightsLikeThis
Summary: Bayley moves in next to Sasha, Sasha doesn’t do friends, Bayley doesn’t know how not to be friends.





	1. Neighbor

neigh·bor   
/ˈnābər/   
noun   
1.a person living near or next door to the speaker or person referred to.

 

—-

 

When Bayley moved into apartment 238, a maybe slightly rundown building on the east side of Manhattan, she hadn’t expected her neighbors to be so unwelcoming. Well, more like neighbor, singular. 

 

Bayley, like always, walked towards change head on, looking to learn from the past and make more room for growth in the future. She sought to make new connections and find people with the same wholesome zest for life Bayley held dear to her heart.

 

The owner of apartment 237, didn’t seem to share those same values. 

 

Sasha might not have been cruel or arrogant, but she definitely wasn’t great at making first impressions.

 

After two days of living in her new home, Bayley decides it’s a good idea to say “hi” to her neighbor because it’s been 48 hours of hearing hushed curses and what seems to be k-pop playing from the other side of the wall, and to be completely honest she’s beyond impatient when it comes to meeting potential friends.

 

So she knocks, and waits. Waits maybe too long before knocking again.

And finally, the door opens. Bayley takes notice immediately of her vibrant purple hair, smiling at the way it plays in the poorly lit hallway, second her height, or lack of height. And last but not least Bayley is settling somewhere on dark brown eyes that seem full of the emotion the girl isn’t showing on her face. Annoyance. Regret. Joy?

 

And there’s a short, “can I help you with something?” that sort of throws Bayley off, but also reminds her to stop staring.

 

“Hi, I’m your new neighbor, I just wanted to introduce myself, I’m Bayley”, the brunette offers her hand out to shake, but Sasha simply looks down on it like she’s not sure what to do. 

 

She looks up again, instigating a new eye contact that tells Bayley she won’t be returning the hand shake. There’s a moment of silence as if Sasha is deciding something in her head. 

 

“Sasha. Don’t knock again unless I’m being too loud. I don’t really do friends, Bayley” she finally answers in a sort of crushing way that Bayley doesn’t believe. 

 

Still, in the wake of Sasha being rude to someone she doesn’t even know, Bayley doesn’t know how to be anything, but kind, “Okay, sorry to bother you. It was nice meeting you.”

 

Sasha doesn’t answer verbally, rolling her eyes and shutting her door.

 

—-

 

It’s been 2 weeks of steady co-existing. Bayley paying too much attention to the pattern of coming and going from Sasha’s apartment. Maybe obsessively trying to figure out what shows she’s watching and where she’s going at 7 am Monday through Thursday. Spending time during her days teaching kindergartners, thinking about purple hair and brown eyes. A weird fixation on someone wrapped in mystery.

 

And then it happens. Bayley gets sick. Not just sick. But like oozing green out every orifice sick. Three days of sneezing, coughing, and mess. And the walls thin.

 

And she’s beyond content to wallow in bed for another day, but she hears Sasha’s door open and close and then a moment later a knock on her door. 

 

Maybe it’s a coincidence. Sasha would never be knocking on her door, right?

 

Bayley somehow finds a way to walk to the door without falling to a heap on the floor, only partially compelled by the fact that Sasha might be on the other side. 

 

She doesn’t even look through the peephole, too concentrated on getting to see the girl she’d only seen for a moment but thought about for what seemed an eternity.

 

“Hey”, Sasha says growing impatient, “can you just open the door already? I don’t bite”

 

So she does.

 

“Hey” Bayley croaks in her scratchy voice, like Sasha coming to her door is a pay per view event.

 

“Hey, um i have midterms this week, and you’re coughing is like really loud and I’m gonna need you to shut up so I can study, so I made you some soup and I got you NyQuil and tissues” Sasha blurts out, making her way into Bayley’s apartment like it was no big deal, setting down the container of soup and medicine. 

 

Bayley is sort of confused, but beyond delighted. “Thank you, that's so sweet of y-“

 

“I’m not sweet. Didn’t you hear me. I did this for my benefit, so take your medicine and be quiet” Sasha orders making Bayley feel adequately parented.

 

“It’s still sweet,” Bayley tries to convince her while taking a swig of the NyQuil from the small plastic cup, only to make a face at the taste.

 

Sasha sort of smiles at the disgust; but the raise of her lips falters before Bayley can really stare too long.

 

—-

 

With the combined super powers of Sasha’s homemade chicken noodle soup and NyQuil, Bayley finds herself feeling better sooner rather than later. She finds herself waiting for the right opportunity to knock on Sasha’s door to thank her again even if it was for solely “her benefit” and to return the now empty soup container. 

 

But the following week, Sasha isn’t really home, stopping by late at night for short amounts of time before she’s gone again. She hears a man’s voice sometimes, something that threw her off the first time, something like disappointment settling in her gut. 

 

But she hears Sasha come in one night and can’t help herself anymore.

 

When Sasha opens the door, she looks sort of disheveled, her long purple hair up in a messy bun, glasses that Bayley had never seen her wear before, and a stained collared shirt that says Tony’s cafe on her chest. 

 

“Hey”, Sasha says with less bite than usual, a resigned tiredness to her features.

 

“I just wanted to thank you again, and give you your container back”, Bayley offers trying to keep her tone soft in Sasha’s subdued state.

 

“Oh yeah, no problem” she says taking the plastic from Bayley’s hands, “thanks for returning this” 

 

Bayley smiles likes she’s won the lottery. Something clicking then in Sasha’s brain.

 

“We’re still not friends” Sasha claims like she’s trying to convince herself, slamming the door in Bayley’s face. 

  
  



	2. Friend

friend  
/frend/   
noun   
1\. a person whom one knows and with whom one has a bond of mutual affection, typically exclusive of sexual or family relations.

 

—-

 

It’s not that Bayley’s obsessed or that she can’t take no for an answer. It’s just that she can tell Sasha is just being difficult. That and Bayley has way too much time on her hands.

 

There’s only so much to do as a kindergarten teacher and she doesn’t exactly have any hobbies that involve anything other than in home workouts and watching Paramore interviews on her laptop all day(it really isn’t her fault that Hayley Williams is so gosh darn adorable).

 

And it’s not really stalkery either. It’s just that Bayley hasn’t found anyone that she really wants to be friends with, or is worth the effort. Except for Sasha.

 

But Sasha made it clear. Not friends. Definitely not friends.

 

So Bayley finds herself in a limbo of trying to piece the purple haired girl together through what she can hear through the wall and when they see each other in passing in the hall or in the lobby. The brunette always offering a closed lipped smile, that isn’t returned. It leaves her feeling more unsettled every time.

 

Bayley pieces together a few things. Sasha goes to Manhattan college for communications and works part time at a coffee shop, Tony’s cafe. She’s friends with this guy, Finn, who might be her boyfriend, but something in Bayley hopes he isn’t. She hasn’t even seen the dude, just heard his voice, but there’s something she doesn’t like.

 

\---

 

It’s a Tuesday and she sees them, walking hand and hand. It’s sort of jarring, how weird they look next to each other.

 

Bayley wasn’t waiting for Sasha to come home, honestly. She just thought it might be a good idea to hang out in the lobby of their building, find a comfy seat by the window and read a book that wasn’t all pictures for once.

 

But there’s Sasha with an amount of makeup on her face that Bayley has never seen, heels that make her taller but seemingly stiff, and a boy wrapped around her arm. He’s tall and handsome and his eyes pop out for all the reasons Bayley’s don’t. His arm muscles are visible through the thin material of his t-shirt which Bayley suspects is hiding a 6-pack. And yeah, he’s flawless physically, but Bayley doesn’t buy his perfection just yet.

 

She doesn’t mean to watch them so intently, but the way Finn kisses her goodbye so passionately, grabs her butt. The way Sasha tenses slightly in the moment, the way her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. It’s all there for Bayley to take note of.

 

Sasha stays in the lobby and watches him go, seemingly wistfully awaiting his return, but she waits for him to be out of sight before taking a deep breath and stepping out of her heels and onto the old carpet.

 

“Hey”, Bayley can’t help herself of course.

 

Sasha whips her head around to the voice, her obscenely high shoes now held in her hand, a look of fear, more than one of pleasant surprise.

 

Bayley doesn’t wait for her to greet her back, takes the moment to be brave.

 

“Who was that?” She asks before she can stop herself.

 

“That sounds like a question a friend would ask and last time we talked I thought we decided that wasn’t a thing” Sasha chimes like a well practiced defense mechanism, but Bayley’s had this conversation in

her head a hundred times.

 

“Well, I think YOU were the one who made that decision, it wasn’t really a joint effort” Bayley tries back, hoping Sasha sees the error to her ways and embraces friendship wholeheartedly.

 

There’s a moment of weakness then where Sasha is closing the distance between them to only a few feet, still standing, Bayley would never dream of Sasha actually taking a seat beside her. But she’ll take what she can get.

 

Instead, she maintains the power structure, stood up on higher ground than Bayley, physically talking down to her.

 

“That’s Finn,” she starts in this voice that Bayley can’t place, and maybe it’s a hint of softness for someone that Sasha actually trusts or maybe even loves. And Bayley thinks that’s it, all the information Sasha is willing to give and she’s content with even this extent of sharing. But she continues.

 

“My boyfriend.”

 

Bayley figured as much, but hearing Sasha actually confirm it, sort of pulls at her heart in a way that shows her that if she didn’t think she had a crush on Sasha before, she definitely has one now.

 

“You guys are cute together,” Bayley pushes out, not exactly lying, they’d be cute separately as well.

 

“Thanks,” Sasha offers back sheepishly, like she doesn’t want the compliment, but she isn’t rude enough to tell Bayley “no”.

 

—-

 

“We never have sex! Am I really that shitty?” Bayley hears a male voice through the wall and assumes it’s Finn’s.

 

It’s sudden and all at once, like a burst of anger out of nowhere. Bayley drops her phone from her hands at the noise, waiting for the high volume from the other room to seize.

 

“Finn, we had sex 3 days ago, I just don’t want to right now, can you stop being so crazy?” Sasha replies, an instance of tiredness in her voice, a cry for this to stop.

 

“I’m crazy? You’re the one prancing around half naked all the time expecting me not to have needs!” Finn yells and Bayley almost laughs. It’s Sasha house, she can wear whatever she wants. That doesn’t mean Finn should be able to get some at all times.

 

“Look, Finn” Sasha starts in a voice that’s so small, “I’m not gonna fight about this with you again”

 

“Fine! Call me when you get your shit together!”

 

With that there’s nothing more than a slammed door, followed by silence.

 

And yeah, Bayley wants to get up and make sure Sasha is okay, but they’re not friends. She doesn’t want to overstep and make the shorter girl uncomfortable.

 

In her moment of contemplation, a knock stirs her from her thoughts, but it takes her a moment to realize the sound is coming from the wall and not her door. The sound is followed by sharp words that tell her the speaker is probably crying.

 

“Sorry you had to hear all that,” Sasha says and Bayley can tell she really means it.

 

“It’s not your fault,” she answers hoping Sasha knows it’s the truth.

 

Sasha doesn’t answer, just sniffles quietly.

 

“Are you okay?” Bayley questions because her moral compass forces her to.

 

Sasha doesn’t answer, but Bayley knows she can hear her, pressed to the wall for a long moment before she hears footsteps carry her away.

 

A knock, this time on her door.

 

She opens it to find Sasha: silent tears sliding down her face, “he can be a dick sometimes, but he means well” Sasha tells Bayley like she asked for an explanation, like that solves everything.

 

Something in Bayley breaks then, seeing Sasha hurt like that. She doesn’t want to see her cry ever again, wants to stop it as soon as possible.

 

“Do you wanna watch a movie?” She asks hoping Sasha sees this as trying to get her mind off of Finn, and not Bayley being insensitive to the situation.

 

She grabs a tissue box from the kitchen counter to give to Sasha, realizing it was the box she gave her when she was sick.

 

Sasha takes one and wipes her face, blows her nose, while Bayley waits patiently for an answer.

 

“Sure, why not? What do you got?” Sasha finally says, making Bayley realize she’d wait forever for answer.

 

“I was thinking Scooby Doo 2” Bayley offers trying to hide her blinding smile.

 

“Wow, you tryna ruin this friendship before it starts?” Sasha retorts, and Bayley sort of recoils first, not knowing the shorter girl’s sense of humor yet, but the sudden smile on Sasha’s face tells her exactly how she feels in that moment.

 

“It’s a classic and you know it!” Bayley pouts in this comical way that makes Sasha sort of giggle, before scaling back to her boss like demands.

 

“Put it on already, kid.”

 

“Kid?” Bayley’s face contorts into confusion, “I’m pretty sure I’m older than you.”

 

“You look like a baby to me,” Sasha adds to the banter, that same look of hidden joy in her eyes when Bayley knocked on her door the first time.

 

Bayley can’t help but laugh before starting the movie.

 

They’re on far ends of the couch, making stupid commentary on the cinematic masterpiece, laughing at each other’s jokes, and Sasha is smiling in wake of a fight with her boyfriend and that’s all that matters to Bayley right now. Because as much as she’d like to reach out and hold the other girl, that’s not what she needs right now. As much as she wants to point out, that maybe they’re friends now, she doesn’t want to ruin the moment.

 


	3. Friendship

Friendship  
/ˈfren(d)SHip/   
noun   
1.the emotions or conduct of friends; the state of being friends.

2.a state of mutual trust and support between allied nations.

—-

 

Sasha gives Bayley her phone number, and her instagram and Snapchat. And Bayley tries not to seem too ecstatic about it, waits a whole 5 minutes after Sasha leaves to her own apartment to stalk her Instagram account all the way back to the first picture.

 

It’s a lot of what Bayley expects. Throwback pictures of her and her brother growing up. Inspirational quotes. Pictures of her and Finn. One where they’re stiffly positioned in front of the sunset in California. A cute picture of her mom’s dog. The occasional selfie that Bayley finds herself looking at too long.

 

It kind of makes Bayley more aware of how special Sasha letting her into her world is. No pictures of friends. At least not unless Bayley scrolls all the way back to high school.

 

Bayley sees the potential though, knows Sasha could use a friend, just needs to let her walls down. They’ll both be better for it.

 

—-

 

It turns into a weird pattern of Bayley trying not to text Sasha too much, not wanting to come off as strange or clingy, and Sasha always answering in ways that make Bayley want to text her more.

 

And it’s fulfilling how easy it is to talk to each other. To share silly stories. To talk about their day. Never anything too deep, just enough to add a few smiles to each other’s day.

 

Sasha wants to blame it on anything other this actually being a step in the right direction, but she can’t hide the smile she gets when Bayley’s name pops up on her phone.

 

But there are moments of insecurity when Bayley sends a message like: if I’m annoying you lmk

 

Those messages sort of make Sasha regret being so cold at first. Especially now that she knows Bayley is the type of person that just wants to make everyone’s day a little brighter, someone with pure intentions and a heart of gold.

 

So she’ll answer with words that aren’t too imposing, but let Bayley know that the banter is welcome.

 

_Ur not annoying me yet, I’ll let u know tho_

 

—-

 

Bayley finds herself knocking on Sasha’s door with more ease now. Feeling less like a trespasser under cold eyes, and more like a welcome companion.

 

She comes over on Saturday and Sunday afternoons after Sasha has completed the morning shift at the coffee shop, and Bayley has had enough time to destress from the week.

 

They play Mario Kart most of the time. Sasha talks smack like she’s ready to claim her gold metal. And Bayley wins until Sasha gets mad enough that Bayley lets her win a few rounds. The cycle repeating.

 

Sasha still jumps up with pride declaring herself the undisputed champ.

 

Bayley only laughs. Let’s Sasha have her glory.

 

Sasha tells her about her annoying professor and the monstrous customers she deals with at work.

 

Bayley tells her about her students and how she misses being that innocent.

 

Sasha makes a joke about Bayley still being 5 years old.

 

Bayley makes fun of Sasha’s height.

 

It’s a good balance of not taking themselves too seriously and learning to be themselves in front of new people.

 

Sasha doesn’t tell Bayley about how suffocating the apartment can be when she sleeps alone. Or her brother’s situation. Or how her father left. Or how Finn can be so overbearing.

 

Bayley doesn’t push her to say more than she wants.

 

It continues like this for a while: Bayley falling asleep on Sasha’s couch mid-movie marathon, her hand half in the popcorn bowl, or Sasha drinking too much wine to make it back from Bayley’s apartment to her own.

 

There’s a trust that extends only so far. An understanding on the basis of having fun, but never asking questions that the other isn’t ready to answer.

 

—-

 

Bayley and Sasha are sitting silently in Bayley’s apartment. Sasha sat in the armchair typing away on her laptop for some English class, Bayley spread across the nearby couch flipping through channels mindlessly. They’re both comfortable in the silence of it all, in a space where it’s okay to enjoy the other’s unnecessary company, but not exactly okay admitting it.

 

Everything is calm and easy. Over the passed few weeks, Sasha has been overwhelmed with just how easy it is to find this space with Bayley. She finds herself breathing more steady, understanding her own thoughts, trying to be better, all because of Bayley.

 

The sound of vigorous typing and the quiet chatter from the television is interrupted by the loud chime of Sasha’s phone. Bayley remains in her comfortable position, only moving her eyes up in a question of “are you gonna look at that?”

 

“It’s probably just Finn,” Sasha huffs like it’s far less important than the task at hand.

 

Bayley just nods, trains her eyes back on the tv, doesn’t vocalize all the problems she’s found with their relationship. They’re not ready for that yet. But Sasha stops what she’s doing a moment later, seemingly suddenly overcome by a need to look at her phone, a sigh making its way through her body as she unlocks it. Bayley tries not to make it too obvious that she’s watching her.

 

“Finn wants to go get food.” Sasha says plainly.

 

“Oh” is the only thing Bayley can make herself say. She doesn’t know what Sasha wants from her, to tell her to go, to ask her to stay.

 

“Do you wanna come?” Sasha asks like it’s not a huge step, introducing Bayley to her boyfriend. Bayley furrows her brows wondering when Sasha crossed the bridge of trust to this particular instance.

 

“Uh sure,” Bayley answers, mostly because she wants to see how this plays out, “where are we going?”

 

“There’s this pizza place on Spring St that Finn likes, Lombardi’s” Sasha makes a clear decision not leaving Bayley anytime to be her usual indecisive mess, and she appreciates the certainty of it.

 

“Sounds good to me”

 

—-

 

“Finn”, he introduces himself to Bayley on the street in front of Lombardi’s with his hand held out for a handshake, “Sasha’s boyfriend”

 

“Bayley,” she says back noticing the strength in his hands as she returns the gesture. He smiles and makes eye contact, and Bayley sort of feels bad for making him so villain-y in her head.

 

“Sasha’s told me a lot about you,” Finn decides to add, the look in his eyes telling Bayley he knows how unlikely it is for Sasha to like someone enough to keep them around this long, or to tell Finn about it.

 

Sasha shushes him, pushing against his chest and steering him into the pizza place, making sure Bayley is following behind her.

 

They order their pizza. Finn makes fun of Bayley for getting mushrooms. Sasha swats at him for it.

 

They sit down in a booth in the corner with Bayley sat on one side, and Finn and Sasha on the other. It’s then that Bayley gets a good look at them for the first time. The way they look like a couple, not friends, but people surely involved with each other. The way Finn hands Sasha the Parmesan cheese without her even asking. The way their arms brush naturally from proximity. How Sasha wipes the tomato sauce off his cheek wordlessly.

 

It’s cute. Honestly, it is, even with Bayley sort of jealous she isn’t the one doing those things with Sasha. Still, there’s a fire of self-hatred in her gut anytime jealousy roams free, because all she wants if for Sasha to be happy. And she’s not sure where or how Finn exactly fits into that happiness, but she’s certain he has some part in it. Bayley can’t be selfish, not if Finn makes Sasha happy. That’s not her business. They’re just friends, after all.

 

Finn tells Bayley about his job, working in sales for some big company that she’s never heard of, mostly because it’s not too personal, and it allows them to both go back and forth kind of adding small details or asking questions, feeling each other out. Sasha sits quietly for most of it, listening to them talk seemingly easily. It’s kind of nice seeing two people she cares about getting along. And yeah, it takes a minute to get used to, but she’s admitting to herself that she cares about Bayley, doesn’t want any harm to come her way, would do what she could to make her life easier.

 

And she’s looking at her, eating her mushroom pizza, wondering how she ever missed the care that so innately runs through Bayley’s veins. And she’s staring but not realizing, thinking about how funny Bayley is, and how easy she is to get along with, and how happy she makes her in the simplest way.

 

“Sasha, you okay?” Finn turns to her, noticing the way she spaced out.

 

“Yeah, just thinking,” she answers and that’s good enough for him, leaving a gentle kiss on her cheek, that she smiles at before returning to his conversation with Bayley, which has made its way to video games somehow.

 

Bayley tries to bite back the fit of envy that springs up, crushing it down with the solid implications of friendship.


	4. Confidant

con·fi·dant  
/ˈkänfəˌdant,ˈkänfəˌdänt/   
  
noun   
1.a person with whom one shares a secret or private matter, trusting them not to repeat it to others.

 

—-

 

There’s something in the way trust blooms like a new flower, free from rain droplets and clouds blocking out the sheer beauty of uninterrupted color.

 

Bayley likes to imagine Sasha as a flower, with layers to her heart. Layers that Bayley would wait forever to uncover, work tirelessly for, if only to make Sasha happy.

 

But flowers have seasons, and Sasha hasn’t met her full beauty yet. She remains a bud outstretched off Bayley’s stem.

 

Free to exist, to be exactly who she is, but not certain she’s ready to open herself up, to let bees and pollen come and go, to be succumb to the consequences.

 

Still, Bayley will remain vigilant and patient, in that order, to find the purity she seeks.

 

—-

 

Bayley is barely in her door one Tuesday afternoon having just returned from work, her kindergartener’s math homework spilling out of her bag, her hair frayed into her eyes when her phone goes off.

 

The sound is startling as it’s not her normal ringtone. It takes a second to recognize the tune, Girl on fire by Alicia Keys, as the one she assigned to Sasha not too long ago when Sasha got fake mad at Bayley for singing too loud and obnoxious in public.

 

Bayley still takes a moment to look at the contact photo before answering, a picture of Sasha asleep on her couch, perched up with her legs underneath her, glasses sliding down her nose, beanie askew, her mouth hanging open. Bayley thinks it’s the perfect combination of funny and adorable.

 

She answers with an unmistakably happy, “Helllllo Friend,” but the greeting isn’t returned, a silence taking over the line for a moment before a meek answer comes.

 

“Can you come over?” says a voice that is too much and too little at the same time. Too much hurt, too much pain. Too little joy, too little hope.

 

Bayley had planned to run a bath, grade her homework of simple addition, order Chinese food, maybe even take a nap. But plans fly out the window, as Sasha becomes a priority in this unseen state.

 

“I’ll be there in a minute,” Bayley answers, making sure that Sasha is sure. Doesn’t want to leave room for the purple haired girl to question her importance. Doesn’t want to give her a reason to call someone else or seek another outlet. Bayley can handle this, whatever it is.

 

Sasha doesn’t answer, but doesn’t hang up either. The static of silence is comforting as much as it is painful. Bayley sets down her things, makes sure she has her key, and heads for the door.

 

“You gotta open the door, Sash” she speaks again at Sasha’s door instead of knocking. Bayley doesn’t hang up until she hears the lock shift into place in the wall, needs to hold onto some semblance of connection.

 

When she sees Sasha she’s not sure what to do, she just knows she has to fix it. A girl who’d probably spent most of her day crying, cloaked in raggedy sweatpants and a stained tank top. Her eyes are bloodshot, her cheeks are red, her glasses are crooked. There isn’t a lot of time of both of them stood by the door, because as soon as Sasha looks at Bayley once over she’s making her way back to a fortress of blankets and tissues on her couch.

 

Bayley doesn’t want to pry, knows Sasha isn’t one to share things that one would deem personal. Bayley knew her favorite color was purple, her favorite ice cream flavor cookies and cream, but she didn’t know what Sasha’s childhood was like, didn’t know her relationship with her siblings or if she had any. Instead, Bayley waits, takes a careful seat on the opposite side of the couch, free of the warmth Sasha’s arms and blankets would provide, but full of a feeling that taking it slow is the right thing to do. She wants to ask some eased variation of “are you okay?” or “what happened?” but she knows Sasha called her for a reason, knows Sasha will get to the point or push the situation the way she wants it in due time.

 

Bayley is here, and that’s kind of all that matters to Sasha. She’d waited all day to hear the brunette’s unmistakable footsteps through the hall indicating her return home from work. She wasn’t sure why. Why she hadn’t called Finn. Why she wanted Bayley, knew somehow she’d know the right thing to say.

 

“My father died today,” Sasha starts off in a crumbling tone, a sound plagued by rasp and uneven breaths. Bayley is immediately beyond sympathetic, Sasha can see the shine of it in her eyes, but there’s an air of calmness to the older woman that makes something settle in Sasha as well. She’s awaiting a verbal reaction, waiting for something charged in regularity, but Sasha has never known Bayley to be predictable. Instead of a placated “I’m sorry for your loss,” Bayley tries at peeling away the edges.

 

“Were you guys close?” is what the brunette settles on.

 

“No,” Sasha starts, an intake of air parallel to a vacuum, “he left when I was 5, I barely remember him, but there’s just something hitting me about it now, I should’ve reached out to him, tried to have a relationship, I villainized him too much” she adds staring at the wall over the tv.

 

Bayley is consumed by the overwhelming change, the way Sasha doesn’t feign strength, cries openly like a flowing river. There’s a moment of silence where Bayley is trying to gather herself, decide on what to say, but Sasha fills it suddenly with words that hurt more than anything else.

 

“I had the power to change it, but now it’s too late. It’s all my fault”

 

Bayley’s protest comes in a hushed version of her normal speaking voice, a sense of Sasha needing a trace of stability even just in the cadence of Bayley’s voice.

 

“It’s not your fault,” she wants to make that much clear, “you were a kid, that wasn’t your responsibility.”

 

Sasha only cries more, a surge of “he hated me” and “so much that he left.” Deep down she knows Bayley is right, but it helps to hear somebody else say it.

 

_It’s not your fault_

 

The tears escalate quickly forcing Sasha to shut her eyes, cover her face with her hands, and turn further into herself. Bayley doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know what Sasha wants, but there’s a sudden change in the air when Sasha looks up at her, clearly looking for something, and maybe it’s not exactly what Sasha wants, but she moves forward anyway.

 

Closing the distance between their bodies, Sasha doesn’t protest. She lets Bayley sit by her side, pull her in, hold her close as she continues to cry.

 

“It’s not your fault” Bayley continues because she knows it’s what Sasha needs, whispers as Sasha continues to let it out into Bayley’s neck and shoulder. Her shirt is probably soaked through by now, but she doesn’t care. Sasha is more important than the wet she feels against her skin. She realizes Sasha is more important than a lot of things.

 

They continue like this for a while, Bayley stroking Sasha’s hair softly, whispering reassurances, praying to every god she can think of that things will be okay, that Sasha will be okay. Sasha’s thinking about everything at once, her father, her mother, her brother, the girl holding her. There’s a flash of hesitation in her mind when she comes across Bayley there, the broken seal of security, the crack in the wall she puts up, the way she fell into Bayley’s arms so easily without a question.

 

It’s not long before Bayley is stuck with an asleep Sasha against her chest, her breathing evening out like a cloud rolling through even sky. It’s not long before Bayley is asleep too.

 

When she awakes a few hours later it’s dark. It’s dark and Sasha is nowhere to be found.  

 

_She wouldn’t leave me here alone, right?_

 

When she listens closely, there’s a sharp sound of water shutting off and the tapping of wet feet on tile telling Bayley that Sasha must be coming out of the shower.

 

Sasha emerges from the bathroom in a towel that covers her small frame almost entirely. Still Bayley traces the sheen of her calves and the droplets on her collarbone. She’s staring, but not in a creepy way, not for long either, because Sasha is forcing eye contact.

 

“Hey” comes her voice soft and full of something Bayley can’t place.

 

“Hey” she returns the gesture hoping the awkwardness dissipates. It’s never been awkward between them before and Bayley knows they just stepped over a boundary crying in each other’s arms, but she doesn’t want Sasha to roll back into her shell, hopes she knows there isn’t judgment.

 

“Do you want me to leave?” Bayley asks wrinkling her brow, after waiting for more words from Sasha that don’t come.

 

There’s a switch in her brain then, that starts her back into motion, a rush of “oh no, you can stay” and then “please. Stay.”

 

Bayley doesn’t have much time to process. Of course she’ll stay. It’s Sasha asking. But the excitement of it all is cut short by Sasha’s phone ringing, the sailor moon theme song of course.

 

Sasha picks it up and moves into her bedroom, out of direct earshot of Bayley, but the thin walls provide some keys point.

 

From what she can discern Sasha’s voice sounds off, like a pushed out version to convince the other person that everything’s okay. A shrill of something too high pitched, too practiced. And then she hears “okay babe, see you soon.” It’s Finn.

 

Sasha hangs up, but doesn’t come back. Bayley waits 10 minutes, listens to the movement of Sasha pushing around her closet, her feet creaking into the floor, the heavy sighs she pushes from her mouth, before she gets up to follow Sasha into her room.

 

It’s then that she realizes that they’ve lived next door to each other, had this weird semblance of friendship or whatever it is, for a little over a month, and Bayley has never seen Sasha’s room. It’s a mix of deep purples and red. It’s a cross between teenager and 50 year old woman. Lilac walls. Fluffy carpet. Polaroids posted on her wall of the sunset, of her and Finn, the beach. A queen bed with elegant silk maroon sheets. A poster of a k-pop group that Bayley has no knowledge of. A pointillism painting of a 2 pitbulls in grass.

 

But Bayley is more focused on the purple haired girl sat in front of a large vanity, wrapped in a short black dress, applying eye shadow.

 

“What are you doing?” Bayley asks because she can’t imagine Sasha is going out, not after the day’s events, she needs to process, needs to rest.

 

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Sasha says between heavy breaths, holding Bayley in shock for a moment that she is back to being cold.

 

But then when she thinks too much damage is done, she’s stopping what she’s doing, putting down her tools.

 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” she tries for something that expresses truth, “I just…”, but doesn’t find the words.

 

“It’s okay,” Bayley offers because she understands, that maybe all the cogs in Sasha’s head aren’t turning right now.

 

She smiles at her, a replacement for a “thank you” that Sasha isn’t ready to say out loud.

 

Bayley takes a seat on her bed behind her, allowing Sasha to see her face through the mirror. There’s a thick coated silence that settles to dust before Sasha speaks again.

 

“Finn is taking me on a date, he’ll be here in 20 minutes,” Sasha informs her while fussing with her makeup once more. Bayley doesn’t answer, just lets the information settle for a moment before searching for something to say that isn’t “oh”

 

“You don’t like him.” Sasha claims, a sentence that definitely isn’t a question. And Bayley doesn’t adore him, but hate is too extreme too. There’s a moment of hesitation in her defensiveness, because when did Bayley comforting Sasha over her dad become an ambush on all the reasons Finn isn’t a good boyfriend.

 

“I never said that” the calm in her voice is a surprise to both of them.

 

“You don’t have to,” Sasha voices in a way that makes Bayley question everything. _How good is Sasha at reading me? Does she watch me as much as I watch her? Does she know how much I care?_

 

“I just don’t think it’s a great idea to go on a date being that your like in mourning?” Bayley poses as a question because she needs to make this less about Finn and more about Sasha.

 

Sasha tenses at the words, she knows Bayley isn’t trying to hurt her, but the reminder settles a home in the back of her brain. “Finn doesn’t know.”

 

“Finn, doesn’t know what? About your dad?” Now Bayley is confused. Sasha told her about it, but not Finn, her boyfriend of almost 3 years. Sasha doesn’t move, which gives Bayley her answer. “Why didn’t you tell him?”

 

Sasha shrugs in discomfort, a nonchalant “he’s not good at this stuff” like losing a life is not a big deal, like everyone isn’t going to have to face it sooner or later.

 

“Not good at what? Comforting his girlfriend?” And maybe Bayley is stepping over too many lines, maybe this isn’t what Sasha wants to hear, but she can’t help, but think that she’s saying the right thing.

 

There’s too much confrontation, Bayley knows that when Sasha doesn’t answer, turns around in her seat to really look at her. It’s looking in Sasha’s eyes that makes Bayley suddenly humbled. Because maybe she’s being a little selfish. Maybe she doesn’t want Sasha to go out with Finn. Maybe she wants her to stay here, with her.

 

“I’m sorry..that was...I shouldn’t be questioning your relationship” Bayley settles into the air between them.

 

“No..I...it’s fine...I know you’re only trying to help. You’re always trying to help.” Sasha stumbles on her words just the same, something intense in baring your truth.

 

There’s a long moment of breathing and watching that no one wants to break. A synced pressure of silence and timid butterflies. The beauty of complacent wishing is only broken by a knock at the door.

 

Sasha blinks like the sound is a nuisance, but gets up to answer the door anyway. Bayley follows because she doesn’t want to be alone in Sasha’s room clouded by the weight of all the things they left unsaid.

 

When she opens the door, Finn is on the other side, a light blue button down shirt, straight black pants, his hair slicked back nicely. Bayley watches him closely, sees his eyes light up as he takes Sasha in, the smile he still wears so passionately, the surge of power in his hands as he pulls her in for a quick kiss, the way Sasha seems calmed by the safety. She doesn’t hate Finn, she’s sure.

 

His eyes brighten too, when he takes notice of Bayley a few feet behind, like he’s ran into an old friend at the supermarket. She likes Finn, she’s sure.

 

“I was just leaving, have a nice date guys,” Bayley offers with a smile, Sasha looking at her funny, confused as to what changed Bayley’s mind. She moves around them awkwardly through the door and starts to move toward her apartment as Sasha locks her door and starts to head down the hallway. Bayley watches them as they go, her key in her door, but not turned yet.

 

When they turn the corner out of her sight, she finally turns it, surges forward just enough to push it open, but the sound of quick footsteps grab her attention back to the end of the hallway, it’s Sasha.

 

Sasha, running toward her in heels, a blank look of nothing but determination on her face, as her long hair flows behind her with the momentum. Bayley just stares at her in confusion, a shock that holds her in place by the door.

 

But then Sasha is only a foot away, holding out her arms, crashing into her, pulling Bayley into a strong hug, her arms coming around her middle in a rib crushing way that catches Bayley’s breath in her throat for a moment.

 

Sasha is pressing her head into her shoulder, finding comfort in Bayley’s distinct scent. Knowing that running 50 feet to get back into Bayley’s arms was worth it. Bayley is trying not to think too much, returning the hug as best she can, her arms coming around Sasha’s shoulders in a plea to not let go.

 

“Thank you” Sasha whispers as she pulls away, eyes filled with tears that won’t fall, because Sasha brushes them away as they reach her eyelashes.

 

“Go, Finn’s waiting,” Bayley whispers back in a voice that is only sincerity only happiness. Somehow communicating her appreciation for Sasha coming back, but her respect for her and Finn at the same time.

 

It’s a wistful moment of Bayley watching Sasha step backward down the hallway about 10 steps before turning to walk the right way. A moment of them smiling at each other like idiots. A moment where Sasha turns to look again. Bayley shoo-ing her off with her hands, Sasha only laughing in return.

 

Bayley stays there after Sasha is gone, wondering when it was that she fell in this deep.

 


	5. Confidant part II

con·fi·dant  
/ˈkänfəˌdant,ˈkänfəˌdänt/   
  
noun   
1.a person with whom one shares a secret or private matter, trusting them not to repeat it to others.

 

——

 

Once the seal is broken, there is no stopping the flood.  Sasha finds it easier now, to let Bayley listen to her ramble about the inner workings of her brain rather then the physical events of her day.

 

Bayley’s a good listener, let’s Sasha cry about her lonely mother and the struggles of a one income household, having a “sick” brother, having to move all the time to get him the treatment he needed. Bayley gave her the room to speak about how her mother did everything to give them a good life, how her childhood forced her to grow up faster than she would have liked, that she holds onto things deemed childish like anime and stuffed animals as a way of taking it back into her own hands.

 

It’s surreal the way Sasha is free to speak, no more biting back words or memories or desires. She isn’t ashamed to tell Bayley she wants ice cream when their binging Santa Clarita Diet at 3 am on a Saturday morning, and Bayley can’t help but smile at her extreme desire, can’t help but get her want she wants.

 

—-

 

Bayley has never seen herself to be closed off. Not when she was 6 and made friends with every kid in her class. Not when she was 14 and asked a boy to the middle school dance. Not when she knocked on Sasha’s door the first time.

 

But maybe those things are different than telling someone about her soul. Maybe it’s different because telling Sasha things is kind of scary. And it’s not that she doesn’t trust her. She knows Sasha isn’t judgemental or cruel. She’s just afraid somehow that it won’t live up to the plague of Sasha’s life, won’t be enough to keep Sasha interested. Bayley just thinks if she lets everything out Sasha won’t have a reason to stick around.

 

—-

 

It’s 3 am so there aren’t any ice cream places open, but a walk to McDonald’s only takes a few minutes. Sasha whines because of the lack of flavor options, but Bayley makes the frown on her face go away when she offers to pay, a smile forming as she looks at Bayley like a saint. An Oreo McFlurry is close enough to cookies and cream anyway.

 

They sit at a table far in the corner before diving into their ice cream with intense fervor. It’s quiet for a while, both of them invested in the cold treat, before Sasha is looking up and giggling softly.

 

“What?” Bayley asks looking around for the source of Sasha’s joy, never thinking that the sound could be because of her.

 

“You have ice cream on your chin,” Sasha explains taking a napkin and wiping it away for her friend, leaving Bayley happily embarrassed as she ducks her face down into her remaining ice cream to hide her blush.

 

The movement only makes Sasha laugh more, a small breath of “you’re cute” that throws both of them off.

 

Sasha stops then too, when she sees Bayley freeze. She clears her throat before setting the path in a different motion.

 

“Thanks for paying, Bayls.”

 

—-

 

It’s almost 4 when they decide it’s time to leave. Bayley pushes out of her seat looking ready for sleep. Sasha takes her hand to pull her up right.

 

They walk down the lit streets of Manhattan with light chatter. Bayley tells Sasha about one of her students drawing all over the wall in magic marker, how she had to punish him for it even though the art was actually really good for a 5 year old. Sasha laughs at the animated way Bayley tends to tell stories.

 

There’s a shift in the air when Sasha pulls Bayley to turn left toward time square rather than straight toward their apartments. A signal that Sasha didn’t want to cut the moment short. Bayley only questions it in her head for a moment, before trusting Sasha to steer her in the right direction.

 

It’s silent then, Bayley mulling something over in her head, wondering if it’s the right time to ask, if there will ever be a right time.

 

“How you feeling? Since your dad?” Bayley almost whispers. She doesn’t want to remind Sasha about darkness when everything is seemingly so light, but she needs to make sure she’s really okay underneath all the surface plays.

 

“I’m okay,” Sasha starts, looking to the ground, and it sounds genuine, “I just have to take it day by day” she adds, looking up to search for Bayley’s eyes, “thank you again for talking me off the ledge”

 

Bayley just nods, too afraid that her words will spoil the moment, because deep down she knows Sasha is strong enough to do it without her.

 

It’s silent again, before Sasha is speaking again with a new intensity, a new desire.

 

“You know, like no pressure, but...wait I don’t want this to come off as ungrateful, but like I’ve been telling you all this stuff and it’s been really helpful and I’m not saying you have to tell me everything or anything really, I just wanted to let you know that you can tell me anything if you need to”

 

Bayley has never heard Sasha ramble before, has never heard the gears turning in her head so loudly. It’s kind of gratifying to know that Sasha wants to be as much help to Bayley as she has been to her. Sasha wants to know more. Sasha cares enough to keep that door open if Bayley needs it.

 

Bayley knows she needs to answer with more than a nod this time.

 

“I know, I just...I don’t know why I haven’t...It just felt a little selfish bringing in my shit when you were dealing with something so heavy”

 

Sasha can understand that, sees the sincerity in Bayley’s eyes. She knows most people wouldn’t see it the way Bayley does, most people wouldn’t take a second look at Sasha after she slammed the door in their face.

 

—-

 

They don’t get home until 5:00 am when the sun has started coming up behind tall buildings, when the birds start chirping, when Sasha looks like she’s about to stumble over. Bayley forces Sasha into her own apartment hoping the girl will get some sleep before her 10 am shift at the coffee shop.

 

When 8:30 rolls around and Bayley has yet to hear any movement from Sasha’s apartment she takes it upon herself to make sure Sasha doesn’t get fired today. She knocks harder than usual, waits for a disgruntled Sasha to open the door, her hair flung around her face, her glasses barely holding onto the bridge of her nose.

 

“It’s time for work!” Bayley whales in a voice too loud for the early hour, Sasha wants to fight her to the ground, but lets the passion of it settle because it’s Bayley, and Bayley only wants the best for her. She smiles instead, invites Bayley in.

 

There’s a steady silence as Sasha leaves the room to shower while Bayley gathers things Sasha will need like her ball cap that reads Tony’s coffee, and the Advil she’ll need for her migraine. She sets out a bowl of lucky charms and a glass of milk ready to pour in when Sasha’s ready so they don’t get too soggy. Bayley is mildly aware of how domestic it all is, too tired to let the weight push too heavily onto her shoulders. She doesn’t know how to stop herself from being helpful.

 

Sasha returns in her uniform, the collar of the shirt slightly off center. She sits by the small kitchen island and smiles at Bayley in a half asleep but grateful way, and eats her cereal.

 

Bayley waits until Sasha has invested herself in eating enough to not be alarmed by her movement as she lifts her hand to Sasha’s neck to fix her collar.

 

Sasha lets Bayley walk her to work. Mostly because she knows it will make Bayley feel better knowing that she made it there safely, but also because she likes the company. The milestones of friendship never become any less surprising, that she wants Bayley around, that she isn’t tired of her, that Bayley isn’t tired of her either.

 

—-

 

Bayley spends her free day alone with the promise to Sasha that she wouldn’t watch anymore Santa Clarita without her. There’s a long moment of settling contemplation. A feeling that is too much to handle. Something she knows but doesn’t know how to confront. She likes Sasha. In a way that she hadn’t imagined, because Sasha has been pretty since Bayley first saw her, but now there is dimension, now Bayley knows that her brain is just as breathtaking as the rest of her.

 

It’s not something she can do anything about. Sasha is straight as far as Bayley knows. And then there’s Finn. Sasha can surely do better, but Bayley can’t be the one to be selfish, can’t remove Finn to insert herself, Bayley can’t fathom cruel intention, especially when Bayley doesn’t know to what capacity she could make Sasha happy.

 

So she lets herself wallow for only a second, be sad for the part of her that can’t fight for love, the part that wants Sasha to be happy no matter the cost, the part that dies everyday she stays with Finn.

 

—-

 

When Sasha comes back from work almost 9 hours later she is somehow even more disheveled than when she left. Bayley assumed Sasha would come home and crash as soon as she saw her bed, but instead she gets a text a few minutes after she hears Sasha’s door open.

 

_Do u wanna come to the gym with me and finn?_

 

Bayley knows Finn and Sasha to be gym heads, at least 3 times a week Finn is picking her up to head to the planet fitness a few blocks from the apartment, and yeah, Bayley loves to go for a good run or lift some weights a few times a week, but she doesn’t think she’s ever taken it as seriously as either of them.

 

Still, Sasha just worked all day, and Bayley has a hard time believing she’s dedicated enough to skip out on sleep, considering she missed most of it the night before. Sasha might love the gym, but she loves her bed more. Sasha must be able to feel the weight of Bayley’s thoughts through the wall because another text comes through before Bayley can reply.

 

_Finn wants to go! Pls come with us!_

 

Bayley isn’t sure what that means. Is Sasha afraid to tell him no? Does Sasha not want to be alone with him? Does Sasha just want Bayley around too?

 

Bayley tries not to fall into a pattern of not being able to tell Sasha no, but there isn’t really a reason to. Bayley is more than willing and able, a workout isn’t going to kill her.

 

—-

 

Bayley, Sasha, and Finn walk to the gym with Bayley and Finn walking in front, and Sasha slightly behind. New York City sidewalks could accommodate three people across no problem, but Sasha has a hard time imposing herself near Finn when Bayley is around. She brushes it off as not wanting Bayley to feel like a third wheel.

 

Finn talks about his workout regime and the brand of protein powder he uses in his shakes. Bayley mostly nods along and let’s him speak. Sasha remains in her head for the duration of the walk, trying to decide how this dynamic of the three of them turned out like this, with Bayley and Finn seeming more involved than she ever is.

 

At the gym, Finn is in a far corner lifting weights, grunting, looking far too show off-y for Sasha to be anywhere near him. Bayley and Sasha are running on treadmills.

 

Bayley starts this theme of watching Finn again, wants to understand why Sasha puts up with him. And if she digs really deep she knows he’s handsome, and all those muscles have to help him too, and his smile and eyes aren’t terrible. And he’s not the worst guy on the planet. He’s just not good at understanding boundaries or the word “no”. He’s not good at emotions or anything that doesn’t involve him.

 

It doesn’t totally evade Bayley’s mind either that those muscles are a weapon. She watches his shoulder blades flex and wonders vaguely if he’s ever laid a hand on Sasha, if he’s ever used his physical power against her.

 

“Bayley!” Sasha cries to get Bayley’s attention. The sound draws her out of her deep contemplation making her flinch, which elicits a giggle from Sasha.

 

“You staring at my man?” Sasha speaks when Bayley doesn’t react further, but there isn’t the bite you would expect, Bayley knows it’s a joke, sees the smile on Sasha’s face as she asks, the playful joy behind her eyes. Still it doesn’t stop Bayley from gulping. Trying to decide how she feels about “my man” coming from Sasha’s mouth.

 

“No, just thinking,” Bayley finally answers in a voice that sounds more than a little suspect. Sasha only narrows her eyes like she’s still trying to figure Bayley out. “He’s all yours,” she adds and almost regrets the way it sounds, once again, like she hates Finn. But Sasha doesn’t protest, gives a resigned sigh.

 

“Yeah, he is.” Sasha voices, and Bayley can’t decide if it’s an answer of “thank god, he’s mine” or “why can’t I get rid of him?”

 

—-

 

That night Bayley can’t sleep. A full brain of all the possibilities in the world, of all the things she can’t puzzle out in the universe, most instances concerning a certain purple haired lady. It’s been her fourth time out of bed, trying to retuck herself in or drink a glass of water or pee, when she gets a text message from Sasha at 2 am.

 

_I can hear you moving_

_Go to sleep_

 

Bayley wants to sleep. She’s had a long day of thinking. A long day of processing. And she doesn’t want to keep Sasha up, she has work again in the morning. But she knows she won’t sleep without getting something off her chest. So instead of taking Sasha’s orders she answers back.

 

_I can’t sleep._

 

A response comes quicker than Bayley thought possible.

 

_No shit, you can’t sleep! I’ve noticed!_

_Sorry that was mean! What’s wrong?_

 

Bayley laughs then and Sasha can hear it through the wall. A silence that takes over as she waits for Bayley to type back.

 

_Idk_

 

Bayley doesn’t know where she’s going with this, doesn’t know why she can’t just let this out easily. She expects that to be it, expects Sasha to turn over and go to sleep, but she hears a soft knock a moment later, followed by another text.

 

_Open your door_

 

Bayley meets Sasha at the door with eyes that weigh too much to really grasp, so Sasha pulls her into a hug, one that Bayley isn’t sure how to detach herself from. Sasha only snuggles further, brings her face as close to Bayley’s pulse as possible, before pulling away with an unparalleled softness, and the repeated question of “what’s wrong?”

 

Bayley waits a moment, lets Sasha actually come in. They sit on far ends of Bayley’s couch facing each other. Sasha plopping herself down like an exhausted child. Bayley settles more tentatively, sitting with her legs crossed.

 

“What’s up?” Sasha initiates again.

 

“I want to tell you, like deep stuff that you’ve been telling me. And it’s not cuz you asked me to or anything, I just want to, but I’m just scared I guess” Bayley is honest with Sasha and herself in a moment of clarity.

 

“Okay” Sasha starts, making sure Bayley knows she’s being heard, “well I’m all ears whenever your ready” Sasha asserts and it makes Bayley think about when she’ll be ready, today? Tomorrow? 10 years from now? She wonders if Sasha thinks they’ll still be friends in 10 years. But there’s a silence that resurfaces that proves Bayley wrong. She’s ready right now.

 

“I’m ready, just give me a second,” Bayley gulps down, her body getting physically worked up. Sasha is prepared to give her forever if she needs it, her eyes soften when she sees Bayley tense up and shake slightly. She wants to reach out to her, a physical plea to be close, but she doesn’t want to scare her away, knows Bayley can do this.

 

Bayley sinks back into her brain. She remembers telling her high school boyfriend, how he hated her for it, even when all she was trying to be was honest, didn’t want to hurt him more than she had to. She remembers when she told her parents, the way they dismissed it, let her think it was a rash that would fade away, the way her mother pretends it doesn’t exist, the way her father tries to set her up. She remembers telling friends back home, getting mixed signals, it always seemed easier to keep it a secret.

 

But Sasha is different, or at least she hopes it will be. because Sasha is warm, and understanding, and has her own demons and insecurities. Sasha isn’t cruel. And Sasha is her friend, she deserves to know.

 

“I-“ at least it’s a start, there’s just always something so hard about getting the words out of your mouth that Bayley still hasn’t conquered in her early 20’s. And she has to remind herself that it’s Sasha, someone that she trusts.

 

“I’m gay.” Bayley finally reveals in a rush, her breaths coming out even more weighted, like oxygen had flooded her lungs once more.

 

Sasha smiles. A surge she can’t control when she tackles Bayley into a hug. “Bayley!” She calls out even though she’s holding the other woman in her arms, “you had me scared there for a minute, I thought you were like terminally ill or something!”

 

This gets the desired effect of making Bayley laugh, a laugh that prompts the release of each other. Sasha looks at her for a long second, takes it all in.

 

“That doesn’t change anything, thank you...for trusting me enough to tell me,” Sasha answers like this is a well practiced task, like she knows exactly what to say, exactly what Bayley needs to hear.

 

It’s a spitball from there. Bayley telling Sasha about her unsupportive parents. How she’d been afraid to date. The exploratory sexual encounters she had back home. Her crazy ex-girlfriends. Why she chose to teach kindergarten because kids are less judgemental. It’s a good hour or two before Bayley can stop herself from smiling, before she’s sending Sasha back home to get some sleep.

 

When she’s alone again, she still can’t sleep, too consumed by the high of maybe the best reaction she’s gotten to coming out.

 

She flips over hoping not to make too much noise, before a new text message comes through.

 

_Go to bed_

_Gay people need sleep too_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay the longest chapter yet! 
> 
> Let me know if the texting is confusing at all


	6. Hero

he·ro  
/ˈhirō/   
noun   
1\. a person who is admired or idealized for courage, outstanding achievements, or noble qualities.

 

—-

 

Bayley finally finds sleep around 6 am when the sun is starting to come up, which means she sleeps through her alarm. She doesn’t get the chance to wake Sasha up or make her breakfast, or walk her to work.

 

She knows Sasha is a grown up, and responsible enough to do things for herself, but something settles wrong in her stomach when she wakes up around 2pm, knowing Sasha spent her morning alone.

 

The apartment is too silent with no presence of a neighbor she knows probably won’t be home until around 7. Bayley figures she should get up and start getting on with her day because if she doesn’t get up now she won’t be able to fall asleep later on that night either.

 

She decides going to the gym and then grocery shopping would be a good idea, maybe she can make Sasha dinner to make up for keeping her up last night. Bayley has to force down the idea that making her dinner would have any traces of romance. It’s just that finally telling Sasha about her sexuality makes her want to be less guarded about everything, even her unreturned feelings.

 

—-

 

Sasha wakes up at 8:30 to no movement on the other side of her wall. While the lack of Bayley is startling and unwelcome, she knows the brunette needs some sleep after last night's events.

 

She goes through most of her day in a tired daze, serving people coffee without looking them in the eye, skipping her lunch break because she knows she’ll fall asleep and not be able to wake up, and avoiding Finn’s text messages.

 

She blames it on her tiredness, lets the messages pile up as she remains busy with coffee orders and cleaning behind the counter. She doesn’t want to talk to him right now, just needs a cleanse from the intensity for a day. And maybe that isn’t how she should be feeling about her boyfriend, but Finn can be a lot sometimes. There’s nothing wrong with needing some space. They see each other almost everyday, and Sasha’s never met anyone she doesn’t get tired of sooner or later. Well no one, except for Bayley.

 

Bayley.

 

Sasha spends a good amount of time daydreaming about the girl, in the most friendly way of course. She’s just so caring, and noble, and just the sweetest human Sasha has ever met.

 

She stands there wondering if Bayley is even awake yet, what she’s doing right now, wonders if she misses her. She decides to check in with a quick text message, if only to settle her own worries.

 

_Hope you got some sleep, c u later <3 _

 

Sasha erases the heart a few times before deciding it was worth adding for the 5th time. There is love in this friendship, Sasha can admit at least that.

 

—-

 

When Sasha gets home from work Finn is stood at her door waiting for her to get back. The look on his face is a cross between worry and anger. A face that Sasha has seen many times before. A face that still doesn’t fail to make her tense up.

 

He doesn’t say a word as she takes out her key and unlocks the door. He waits for her to move into her apartment before following close behind, slamming the door into the frame of the wall. He likes to start off tentative and slow, something that feeds the build up.

 

“You want to tell me why you haven’t answered any of my calls or texts today?” He demands in a voice that doesn’t completely startle Sasha.

 

Sasha doesn’t want to have this fight right now, just wants to curl up on her couch (with Bayley) and watch a movie after her 8 hr shift. Sasha doesn’t want to have this fight ever. She busies herself in her bedroom, removing her ball cap and shirt, putting on a comfy shirt, before removing her pants.

 

Finn follows her when he doesn’t get an answer, watches her like prey as she strips in front of him.

 

“I’m talking to you Sasha!” He cries out like he’s the most important thing on the planet, “why didn’t you answer me?”

 

There fights usually consist of Finn pushing her verbally until she fires back with something that strikes his ego too hard and makes him leave until he realizes he needs Sasha or until Sasha invites him back. But something about the moment pushes Sasha to actually try to talk about the situation.

 

“I was busy at work, Finn” she huffs out, “I can’t be texting you all day” and that’s partially true, she was busy, but not so busy that she couldn’t answer at all, but that’s not the point, Sasha knows she doesn’t owe him an explanation, Sasha doesn’t owe him anything.

 

It’s about this time that Bayley returns home, 3 heavy duty reusable shopping bags full in her arms as she struggles to put the key in her door. She doesn’t register the sound of shrill escalated voices until she’s set the bags down in her small kitchen.

 

The first voice she hears is Finn’s, a strong “I’m your fucking boyfriend Sasha you can’t just ignore me all day!” a tone Bayley has never heard from his voice, a surge of anger to hide the hint of pain.

 

Bayley’s first instinct is to intervene, to make sure Sasha knows she’s home, that Finn can’t hurt her, but it’s not her place to step into something that has nothing to do with her. In her moment of thought, she hears Sasha’s voice, a croak of timidity that Bayley has never associated with the girl.

 

“I’m sorry I didn’t text you, I was busy at work, can you let it go?”

 

There’s silence.

 

Bayley takes the moment to look at her phone, sees a text message sent from Sasha hours ago.

 

_Hope you got some sleep, c u later <3 _

 

The words almost make Bayley smile, until she feels the weight of it. Sasha had the time to check in with Bayley, but not the time to talk to Finn today.

 

There’s escalation on the other side of the wall as Finn’s voice climbs higher, “YOU ALWAYS DO THIS, YOU LITTLE FUCKING BITCH, WHEN ARE YOU GONNA UNDERSTAND THAT I ONLY WANT THE BEST FOR YOU, BUT YOU DONT FUCKING LISTEN DO YOU? DO YOU? BITCH IM FUCKING TALKING TO YOU!”

 

The sound makes Bayley want to cover her ears, she can’t imagine the look on Sasha’s face right now, how she must feel. She just wants to break a hole in the wall, pull Sasha through it, run away and never look back. There’s a surge of ache in her veins, an insistence on saving Sasha from this mess. But she doesn’t want to be a hero when Sasha might not want her to step in, doesn’t want to impose herself into Sasha’s life in a way Sasha hasn’t let her see before.

 

Finn’s voice doesn’t stop, a continued onslaught of fury, all aimed at Sasha, each word fuels Bayley, to the point where she’s standing outside Sasha’s door, waiting for a settling moment so they’ll be able to hear her knock over Finn’s voice.

 

She’s standing there fist raised to the wood, ready to pound her knuckles thrice when a new sound permeates her ears, the crash of what had to be at least a dozen plates onto the wooden floor.

 

Bayley doesn’t knock, something new takes over her senses as red hits her eyes, she takes the spare key from underneath Sasha’s door mat, unlocks the door herself, lets herself in.

 

She doesn’t realize the magnitude of breaking and entering, not until she sees the scene in front of her. It’s a quick flush of too much happening at once. Broken glass and ceramic in crashing piles all over the floor, blood dripping from Finn’s hand, presumably from the plates and cups he broke. But then Bayley’s eyes latch onto Finn himself, his arms holding Sasha hard against the wall, no room between them as he continues to spit cruelty in her face.

 

Bayley doesn’t know what he’s saying, a part of her brain shutting him out, too concerned in a moment of pure worry. She doesn’t think she’s ever moved faster than in that moment. Uncaring about stepping on glass or anything other than Sasha, she runs, latches onto Finn’s back until he lets Sasha free. She doesn’t think either of them realize her presence until Finn is thrown onto the floor, Bayley stood between them.

 

It’s a startling second of Finn heaving on the ground, a look of betrayal and confusion, of how did Bayley get in the apartment. Sasha looks petrified, if not because of Finn than because Bayley got to witness it, can’t turn back from the ugly in her life.

 

Finn scrambles to his feet, a space in time where Bayley stands guard, where Sasha pushes her hand against Bayley’s back, a quiet plea of “its okay.” A way to calm the fire in Bayley, but maybe also to tell her to back off. It’s strange, the way Sasha slips into comforting Bayley, when she is the one in the trying situation. But Sasha isn’t crying, her face is red and her shoulders are in her ears, but she’s not crying, and maybe that’s enough to let Finn close to her.

 

“I’m sorry,” he croaks out, his voice raw from screaming, “I’ll give you some room” he offers to the air like it’s the resolution to all their problems, like he didn’t just throw a tantrum. He takes his jacket off the back of Sasha’s couch and heads out the door, leaves it open behind him.

 

Bayley moves then, or tries to move, tries to walk to the door to close it, to make sure he’s really gone. But Sasha takes a strong grip on the back of her shirt, makes sure she doesn’t go anywhere.

 

“Don’t go” comes Sasha’s small voice, and Bayley knows now that she is crying. Bayley turns at the sound, lets Sasha crash into her like bricks hitting the ground. A jarring quiet replaces the heaviness of Finn’s yells, a soft pattern of Sasha’s labored breathing against Bayley’s shoulder and chest. A rhythm that Bayley hates to say she’s getting used to.

 

There’s a time of pulling back, a look of pure distraught fear in Sasha’s eyes, she keeps trying at “I’m sorry”

 

But Bayley won’t let her, a symphony of “its not your fault” coasting from ear to ear.

 

Bayley makes the decision to move Sasha to the couch, lays her down against the soft fabric, pulls a cover over her. It takes a lot to get Sasha to fully let go, but Bayley promises she won’t leave.

 

She goes to close the door, and then moves into the kitchen, careful not to step in broken glass, gets Sasha a cup of water, before returning back to sweep up the mess as best she can.

 

She comes back to the couch where Sasha hasn’t moved a muscle, her untouched water held in hand, her eyes cast somewhere far away.

 

“He doesn’t mean to hurt me” Sasha lets out, barely audible as Bayley finds the seat next to her. It’s like she’s trying to tell Bayley he’s good, before she can even claim he’s bad, a sign that Sasha can see the fault without Bayley pointing it out.

 

“It doesn’t matter what he intended, Sash, whether he meant it or not, he still hurt you.” Bayley tries to concede her, let the words find their truth in the air before they settle into Sasha’s brain.

 

Sasha nods slowly, but Bayley isn’t sure the purple haired girl actually understands, too condemned by what happened to open up her mind. Bayley becomes acutely aware of the bruises forming around Sasha’s biceps where Finn’s hands had secured her up against the wall. She tears her eyes away in a moment of weakness.

 

“Did he hit you?” Bayley asks because as much as the answer may hurt her, may drive her to murder, she needs to know.

 

“No” Sasha rushes out in a way that makes Bayley believe her, but forces up the guard Sasha has for him.

 

Sasha finds a new source of energy in the way the light moves through her apartment as the sun starts to go down. Her thoughts move from the trauma of Finn up against her, not knowing how to stop it, or if it would ever stop, feeling his hot breath against her face as a warning reminder that he could kill her if he wanted to, if Bayley wasn’t home.

 

If Bayley wasn’t home maybe she’d still be trapped there, maybe she’d be dead.

 

A jump of enthusiasm hits her as she gets the urge to touch Bayley, to hold her close, but she can’t make herself move, can't ask Bayley to hold her right now. She’s already done so much. She settles for a happy medium as she slides herself into a lying position with her head in Bayley’s lap.

 

“Can we not talk about it anymore?” Sasha breaks the silence, as she flicks on the tv and lets whatevers playing set into her brain. A renewing sigh escapes her mouth as Bayley plays with her hair, gently massages her scalp.

 

It’s an hour later before anyone speaks again, Sasha starts again with a pity for how much Bayley has had to put up with since becoming her friend.

 

“I’m sorry you had to see all that” she pronounces just loud enough for Bayley to hear as she pulls the blanket farther over her shoulders. Bayley only shushes her sweetly, bends herself down to kiss the crown of Sasha’s head.

 

It’s not long before Sasha is sounds asleep, her face pressed into Bayley’s stomach. Bayley tries not to cry at the juxtaposition of the Sasha she walked in on earlier and the calm of right now.

 

She can’t stay to watch the static when she has already seen so much mayhem. When Sasha wakes up in the morning, Bayley isn’t there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about this chapter being kinda heavy but don’t worry the next chapter will probably be just as bad if not worse:)
> 
> Anyway I was watching The Shinning the other day and I realized that I somehow made Sasha’s apartment number the same number as the hotel room with the crazy old lady that Danny (the little boy) goes into, sooo there’s that!


	7. Stranger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry in advance...

stran·ger  
/ˈstrānjər/   
noun   
1\. a person whom one does not know or with whom one is not familiar.

 

—-

 

Sasha wakes up the next morning in a cold sweat, her face drenched as she rattles awake to the sound of her alarm and no arms around her to keep her safe.

 

It scares her half to death, the volume of her phone reminding her of Finn’s screams. She sits up abruptly, forcing the blanket off of her, her arms tensing at the feeling of bruised skin along her bicep, heaving breaths as she tries to remind herself that it’s over, Finn isn’t here, he can’t hurt her.

 

It’s a startling wisp of images and thoughts that warp through her brain all at once, an unconscious inability to make it start or stop, just a decaying process of reliving the words, the silence, the pain. She knows Finn didn’t mean it, truly believes he is a good person deep down. No one is perfect. But Bayley’s words from last night shout at her in a way that is more comforting than painful. They jump out into a shining ray that illuminates the field of glory. Still she can’t help but feel the pull toward her boyfriend, someone she has known almost three years, someone she had previously individually trusted with herself before Bayley, someone she loved, _loves_. And maybe fear does play a part, scared of what he’ll do if she ends it, scared of how she’ll deal with the pain of a loss, scared of not getting over it, scared of not loving again.

 

But Bayley is next door, and maybe it’s okay to let Finn go when she has someone as amazing as Bayley in her life. And maybe it’s not healthy to entrust one person with your secrets and your humanity, and your heart. Maybe it’s not fair to be the only other person carrying Sasha’s weight. Maybe Bayley can’t be that person. And Sasha knows she can’t replace Finn. Doesn’t want another person like him, that’s the point. But is she ready to take the final step? Is she ready to say goodbye to a man she shared her bed and heart with for more than 2 years? Is she willing to date again in the future? Is it worth the heartache to start over?

 

The possibilities are overwhelming, and while the last thing Sasha truly wants is to be alone with her thoughts, she knows that puzzling it out for herself is what she needs to do. She doesn’t know how long that will take, doesn’t want any third party interference. And Bayley is biased, never liked Finn anyway. So she sends her a text.

 

_Hey, can I have some space for a few days?_

 

She instantly regrets it the moment she hits send, but it’s too late. It sends a rush of what she realizes she’s lacking. She misses the way Bayley touches her so delicately, because Bayley knows Sasha is strong, it’s not like she’ll break if not handled carefully, but Bayley cares enough to hold her in a way that takes all of her emotions into consideration, gives her every option to pull away, ample time to free herself. She misses Bayley’s words and how they always seem to settle in the air like a cautioned lullaby, a statue of wisdom and understanding. She misses the banter they have and the way Bayley always knows exactly what to say. She misses her laughter, her quiet smile when they sit silently together,  her wide one all teeth, when she tells a bad joke that makes Sasha laugh. She misses the way Bayley gets shaky and goes red when she tells Sasha something she’s scared to share. She tries to remind herself that Bayley was here, comforting her less than 12 hrs ago, but the thought does nothing to settle the emptiness she finds in her stomach. Still she knows life has to go on, regardless of whether she is moving with it. She gets up and gets ready for class.

 

When Bayley reads the text message at work on her lunch break her heart drops. She knows she messed up leaving Sasha there alone, but she wasn’t sure Sasha would want her there when the dust had settled and they’d both realized what exactly they witnessed. Bayley would do anything for Sasha, a thought that settles peacefully in Bayley’s mind. She’d do anything even if that meant leaving her alone. That’s what she asked for so she shall receive. Bayley is comforted slightly by the fact that the separation that Sasha has requested is only so far. Only a wall between them. Still, a wall is a wall.

 

She texts back two words that set up her mindset, she believes Sasha will call if she needs her, she has to have faith that she’ll reach out.

 

 _No problem,_ she writes and Sasha is rocked back once more, a small part of her hoping that Bayley wouldn’t listen to her, that she’d impose herself in Sasha’s life even if she’d asked her to leave. But Sasha knows Bayley isn’t that person, knows Bayley puts everyone’s mental and physical health before her own. Knows Bayley would stop being friends with Sasha if it’s what she wanted, if her absence would somehow make her happier. If only Bayley knew the swell of Sasha’s heart when they look into each other’s eyes, if only Sasha could open hers wide enough to see her own desire.

 

—-

 

When Bayley had first moved in next door the noises that came from her apartment did nothing more than annoy Sasha. The sound of her tossing and turning at night, the screech of her pulling out the stool from her counter, the legs scratching against the floor. The crash of Bayley angrily closing a drawer too hard when she couldn’t find something.

 

Now they only served as a reminder of the distance she created. The shower water will turn on early in the morning and Sasha will imagine Bayley there, cleansing herself of the day before, preparing herself mentally for the day to come. The shower turns off and Sasha waits for the sink to come on, tell her that Bayley is probably brushing her teeth. She waits for heavy feet to push off the wood floor, tell her that Bayley has put her shoes on; waits for the sound of Bayley lifting her key from the bowl she leaves on a table by the door, the door to open and close until the movement has settled back into the frame. She waits for Bayley to be gone before she loses herself. Waits and waits and waits before finally deciding it’s okay to cry and not blame herself for it.

 

Because it feels as though everything is erased, like they’re strangers again, free from the natural pull towards each other. She thinks about Bayley in all her classes while professors tell her about her final exams and what to expect. There’s a permanent residence in her brain that Bayley occupies, a thought more important than passing her classes in a fleeting moment of feeling secure. She thinks about Bayley while she’s working, getting orders wrong, comparing Bayley’s brown eyes to the shade of coffee beans. And more often than not Bayley comes up in her dreams, sometimes as her hero, sometimes as her friend, sometimes a fleeting face, and sometimes a lover. Those dreams strike Sasha especially, the way Bayley is so fiercely in love with her, yet so patient and delicate with her heart. She has to remind herself that Bayley could never love her like that every time she wakes up. Bayley is too good. Bayley can do better.

 

It’s a yearning she hadn’t felt before, something deep settling into her gut, like a stomach ache that just won’t fade. It’s beyond concerning when Sasha lifts her phone in a time of insecurity and calls a number she shouldn’t. But it’s late and Bayley isn’t home yet and she can’t help herself. When his voice comes to life on the other side of the line it’s deep and apologetic. It’s a voice that knows how to worm it’s way back in.

 

——

 

Bayley hates this more than anything. The distance. The way Sasha is so close yet so far, she thought she would have time to tell Sasha why she left in the first place, how she needed time to process too, that she wasn’t sure Sasha didn’t want to be alone, wanted her to have that option. But Sasha’s wishes came before her opportunity. Sasha asked her to stay away and Bayley had done so nobly for the past 6 days. A new record for how long they’ve spent without talking since becoming friends. A new record for how shitty Bayley feels since moving in. It hurts like nothing else. A pressure on her heart that never grows dull.

 

When she can’t imagine herself going home after work, she finds herself in the last place any of her kindergarten students would find her: a bar. It’s not the best decision but she happens to pass one on the walk home from the subway and her brain steers her inside instead of toward her apartment.

 

She doesn’t have more than a few drinks. Just enough whiskey to take the edge off, to make her think with a little more brave intention. It’s the same type of wallow but the alcohol allows for the wounds to run a little deeper. She leaves with enough brass running through her to get through another day of letting Sasha have her space, after that she’s not sure how long she can last.

 

The trek to her apartment takes longer than usual, with the way her body feels weighed down, the scarlet heat that reaches her face, the dryness of her tongue. Her eyes follow headlights and street lights too closely as she tries to keep steady along the sidewalk, tries to stay far from front bumpers, tries not to get lost in the city that never sleeps.

 

When she finally gets home, she struggles with putting the key in the door, drops them twice, and pushes her face, less than gracefully into the heavy wood, before finally managing to get it open. The room is pulsating slightly, the corners of her vision slightly dimmed. She needs to get to bed, she knows that, but getting there in one piece is proving to be difficult. She sits down on her couch, manages to rid herself of her light jacket and her shoes, before slowly walking toward her bedroom.

 

She skips changing clothes, only ridding herself of her socks and bra before settling into her bed and under the covers. The other side of the wall is quiet, no sounds that hit Bayley’s brain too hard, a cause for her to believe that Sasha is asleep and not riddled with worry. She’s almost found slumber through the calming push that alcohol tends to give, making sure she’s propped up on her side so if she pukes tonight she won’t choke to death. Even that thought takes up a dark place in her brain where she wonders if everything would just be better off.

 

But she hears it, clearer than most things, his voice from behind the wall.

 

_Finn._

 

There isn’t commotion. It sounds like Finn is talking on the phone, maybe to a client. But it’s late, so maybe not. Sasha is probably asleep. There aren’t any noises to indicate her speech or movement and Finn isn’t responding to her. But he’s here. And that’s enough to wake Bayley up.

 

But Bayley can’t save Sasha from something when it isn’t in demon mode, when it’s not posing a threat, when Sasha isn’t asking to be saved. Bayley doesn’t have the right to kick down the door of a _stranger_.

 

So she stays put in her bed, waiting for the deep brush of his voice to stop touching her ears, wondering how so quickly her best friend had become something so far away.


	8. Comforter

com·fort·er

/ˈkəmfərdər/

noun

1.a person or thing that provides consolation.

 

Bayley finally finds sleep when it’s been some 30 minutes after Finn hangs up the phone. Her dreams are a strange combination of Sasha running from her and Finn chasing her. The repetitive nature of running creates a cycle of wondering that makes it hard to stay asleep. But it’s Saturday and Bayley doesn’t have work today so it’s not that terrible. She wakes up at 6:30 to the sound of Sasha’s shower water coming on. The sound rushes through the pipes and crashes onto the floor of Sasha’s tub. Other than that she can only hear a consistent shift in the floor, the way the panels of wood creek when someone walks across them, as if someone is pacing back and forth, deciding what to do.

 

Sasha is in fact on the other side of the wall, walking back and forth in her living room around her coffee table, her open hand raised to her chin in thought, waiting for Finn to get out of her shower.

 

They didn’t do anything last night, Finn just held her until she fell asleep. It was comforting in the warmth he provided but a cold reminder of the last time his skin had touched hers, a reminder of the danger in his bones.

 

Sasha needed to make a decision, she couldn’t live like this anymore. She had thrust Bayley out of her life in a time of need hoping that it would give her the clarity she needed about Finn, but she’d spent the passed few days only thinking about missing Bayley, not what she wanted to do about Finn. And while she didn’t find her conclusion the way she thought she would, her thoughts about Bayley sort of eliminate continuing with Finn. Because even if Sasha never tells Bayley about the feelings blooming under her skin, she can’t spend her life faking it with Finn.

 

When he finally comes out of the shower, Sasha ha the decency to wait for him to get dressed, doesn’t want the possible consequences to occur with him being nude. He’s sat on her bed facing the window, newly dressed, his hair still dripping, his eyes unfocused like he knows what’s to come. Sasha watches him from the door frame, a good angle to really take it all in, using the wall to hold her up right.

 

“We need to talk” She says in a voice riddled with heavy breaths, a fear taking over her as she knows what she has to do, but can’t imagine the possible consequences.

 

Bayley tenses up at the sound of Sasha’s voice, the words aren’t clear but the tone is all she needs to know something is wrong. She props herself up in bed, sat facing their shared wall, hoping to get a better listen, praying to god Finn doesn’t do anything stupid.

 

When Finn doesn’t respond, Sasha continues, knowing it’s now or never.

 

“We should break up”

 

The room is silent. Finn doesn’t turn to face her, doesn’t move to speak, just settles his head down until he’s facing the floor, his shoulders slumped.

 

Bayley sits with her hands over her mouth, both from shock and in an effort to stop herself from making any sounds that would give her away. She can’t believe it. That Sasha is actually doing it. There’s a surge of pride that enters her heart, a hope that Sasha will be okay, that maybe they can be friends again.

 

Finn finally replies, more calm than anyone could expect.

 

“I know, something's off Sash, you don’t look at me the way you used to, when you figure out what happened maybe we can try this again”

 

Both women are more than taken aback. Finn truly believes this is Sasha’s fault, or at least wants Sasha to believe it’s her fault. Bayley wants to bang against the wall, set the record straight, tell him off, if only she could do so without putting Sasha in danger.

 

Sasha sees everything too clearly now, her mind shoots through all the instances this has happened before, something going wrong, Finn manipulating the situation, making it look like Sasha was wrong, like he was doing her a favor by staying with her. Not anymore, not for another second.

 

“No, Finn. I’m breaking up with you because you’re an abusive, manipulative prick,” she lets into the air sounding more free than ever before.

 

Finn comes to a standing position then, like Sasha’s words are a live wire directly connected to his brain, forcing him into action. He jolts at her, a crazed look in his eyes, running toward her from the other side of the room. She runs then too, to the bathroom on the other side of the apartment. She gets there in record time, closes the door behind her and locks the door. The sound of his hard footsteps hit the floor in fast rhythm, until he is there on the other side of the bathroom door, pounding his hand against the wood, the floor shaking with intensity.

 

Bayley wants to cry, doesn’t know what’s happening, just knows it can’t be good.

 

“OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR, YOU BITCH”

 

The pounding doesn’t stop, but Sasha doesn’t oblige him, stays in her place in the bathroom, praying to anything that he doesn’t break down the door. It’s probably only a few minutes of repeated pounding and yelling, but it feels like hours have passed by the time Finn gets tired, sinking to the floor in a heap.

 

Silence takes them over once more before Sasha speaks, her face suddenly close to the door. “Get out, Finn.” It’s soft but weighted, she tries hard not to sound like she’s crying but it’s too much to hide.

 

Sasha hopes that’s it, that he’ll listen to her for once, just leave. But the bad part of her brain is convincing her that he’ll wait forever for her to open the door. That she’s as good as dead.

 

It’s a startling relief for both Bayley and Sasha when Finn pushes himself off the floor.

 

A firm press of “This isn’t over, Sasha” leaves his lips.

 

But the sound of his footsteps follow. The door opens and closes harshly.

 

There’s a long pressure of silence in the air after, like the new sound can’t be drowned out by anything mortal. But the silence can’t stay forever.

 

The sound of Sasha’s door opening comes once more, footsteps that seem softer, hesitant somehow. A chill moves up Sasha’s spine as the sound grows nearer, waiting, wondering what this could create for her. The fear fills the small bathroom, prompting new tears, blurring her vision.

 

The sound of hushed cries fills the apartment, a noise that would be unpleasant for any ears to hear.

 

“Sasha,” the unmistakable voice whispers, “it’s me.”

 

_Bayley._

 

Comfort floods the walls, makes it way through the small crevice underneath the door, reaches Sasha in bursting waves. She stands in an instant, unlocks the bathroom door, lunges herself into Bayley’s awaiting arms.

 

No words are spoken.

 

Sasha knows Bayley heard everything that just went on. Bayley knows she knows. Sasha buries her face into Bayley’s neck, lets herself cry for everything she’s lost: someone she loved and trusted, someone she thought was the one; for everything she gained: sanity, lesson, a new place in her heart to fill, a stronger sense of self.

 

Bayley just holds her, doesn’t ask if they can be friends again, doesn’t try to push or pull. Just holds her against her, hoping that this is it, fixes everything broken between them. She wants Sasha back in her life more than anything, regardless of how hard she has to work for that, for as long as it will take to make Sasha happy again.

 

They stay in Sasha’s apartment that night, close together on her couch, Sasha’s face mostly hidden in Bayley’s shoulder, Bayley’s protective arms around her. Someone puts the tv on for the sake of background noise but neither is paying attention, too focused on the breathing of the other. Sasha’s eyes are red and swollen, Bayley’s eyebrows in a permanent position of sadness.

 

Sasha tries to find comfort in the new beginning, tries her hardest to seek out only good intentions.


	9. Caretaker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I ever mention that this is loosely based on/inspired by a dream I had?
> 
> This one’s a little lighter than the previous chapters...

care·tak·er

/ˈkerˌtākər **/**

Noun

1.a person who has responsibility for the care of another

 

—-

 

Sasha wakes up in her bed, something that scares her at first, waking up in a place she doesn’t remember falling asleep in, reminds her of being 5 and falling asleep doing her homework and thinking she somehow magically awoke in her bedroom the next morning. The idea that Bayley probably carried her to bed late last night when she was in between sobbing and consciousness sends goosebumps onto her skin, makes her feel cared for, taken care of. But again, Bayley isn’t here, at least not in bed next to her. She tries to think about it from Bayley’s perspective for once, tries to understand that maybe Bayley is uncomfortable breaking the boundary of sleeping in the same bed, doesn’t know that Sasha wants nothing more than to have her in that way, to wake up to the scent of Bayley on her skin, her nose nestled into Bayley’s neck.

 

She’s half way through contemplating the existence of Finn when she hears the sound of plates clattering together.

 

Plates? She hasn’t had plates since Finn broke them all, almost a week of take out boxes and making ramen in the microwave. She was waiting for the weekend to go buy a new set, but it sounds like someone already has.

 

When Sasha finally pushes out of bed and carefully pedals in to the kitchen, Bayley is there stacking new plates and coffee mugs into her cabinets. At the sight of her, Bayley smiles in a shameful sort of way.

 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you, but porcelain can be noisy,” she offers first, before shifting to, “I got you some new stuff; I hope you don’t mind”, she finishes, placing a sailor moon mug on the table for Sasha to see.

 

Sasha wants to say “Thank you” or something to express the full expanse of her gratitude, but the words catch in her throat, too caught in the way Bayley always goes above and beyond.

 

Instead she finds herself moving into Bayley’s personal space, pulling her into her body in a hug to replace all the words she can’t bring herself to say. Bayley returns the hug immediately, settling her chin on top of Sasha’s head as the shorter girl sinks deeper into her, lets Bayley carry her weight for a moment. Sasha’s arms snug around Bayley’s abdomen and lower back, while Bayley held her close around her shoulders. When Bayley starts to pull back, Sasha only lets her create a little distance, keeping her close enough to look up into her eyes, wonder for a moment too long what it would be like to kiss.

 

Bayley trails her eyes along the space between Sasha’s lips and back to her dark eyes several times before deciding closing the distance isn’t an option. Sasha waits for an answer to her stare, wonders if it’s too early to jump into something with Bayley so soon after breaking up with Finn. A part of her wants to take this slow, do it the right way, let Bayley know how important she is, completely heal from Finn first. The other part of her doesn’t care, wants Bayley now.

 

The silent comfort in the air is broken by Sasha’s phone alarm going off on the nearby counter. Bayley must have set it to charge last night before they went to sleep. Sasha moves far enough from Bayley that they aren’t touching, but looks back into her eyes as if to make sure she was still close. The clock on her phone reads 11:30 am, stirring alarm and fear into Sasha’s bones. She was supposed to be at work hours ago. Bayley sees the fear light up her face, and tries to move quickly to dissolve any of her worries.

 

“Oh Sash, I called your job this morning, said you had an emergency, that you couldn’t come in today, I can give you the day’s pay if you really need it, but I just thought you could use the extra rest after yesterday.” Bayley wasn’t sure what to do earlier when Sasha’s alarm kept going off only for her to sleep through it, something prompted her to take the reigns, call out of work for Sasha in favor of letting her get more sleep. The bags under her eyes seemed so heavy, the worry in her brow hadn't gone away as sleep overcame her. Maybe it was a little ballsy to take that step, but Sasha being okay was more important than getting up for work. Now, she just worried that Sasha would be mad because Bayley made an executive decision about her well being without consulting her about it.

 

Sasha isn’t mad. She’s more stricken by Bayley’s continuous ability to surprise her with her unwavering care and support. And just how selfless she is. Sasha doesn’t answer with words, something so overwhelming about the last 24 hours keeping her mouth shut. She pulls Bayley to her body once more, placing a lingering kiss on Bayley’s cheek in lieu of a reply. She tries not to think too hard about the implications. She contemplates for a moment the supreme juxtaposition of pushing him away, and pulling her in, all happening so intensely, so fast.

 

Bayley looks down when Sasha detaches her lips from her skin, an effort to hide her eyes from Sasha, afraid they might tell of some evil truth; an effort to hide the scarlet that paints her cheeks.

 

The shame of it almost makes Sasha recoil, but she needs Bayley to understand what this means to her. She lifts Bayley’s chin with her hand square against her neck and finally breaks her silence.

 

“Thank you”

 

——

 

Sasha decides to go into work late, promising Bayley that she isn’t mad, she just needs some time for everything to be normal, or it’ll never be normal again.

 

Bayley lets her leave, watches her walk down the block when Sasha convinces her that she can walk to work by herself. She lets her go with the promise that she’ll be home right after, that Bayley will be there when she gets back.

 

There’s a dull ache in Bayley’s stomach as she watches her walk away, because she doesn’t want to be overbearing, but the overprotective mother in her jumps out every time she thinks about what Finn said before he left.

 

“ _This isn’t over”_

 

But then she thinks about Sasha kissing her. On the cheek. And how much it made her insides light up. And how much she wants Sasha to love her the way she thinks she could love Sasha. And how utterly destroyed she’d be if anything happened to her that she could’ve prevented.

 

——

 

When Sasha finally comes home almost 5 hours later, Bayley is itching to be in her presence, missing the warmth of sharing the same space as the purple haired girl.

 

Sasha smells like coffee and a sweet blend of hazelnut and caramel. It always sends Bayley to a place of comfort, a feeling of safety. But the smell doesn’t last long on Sasha’s skin, because she hates it. She showers soon after stepping in the front door, when she finds Bayley sitting on her couch watching the news. When she emerges from her bedroom 20 minutes later in large sweatpants and a tank top with Snoop dogg’s face on it, her hair still wet, Bayley hasn’t moved from her spot.

 

Sasha decides not to question the voice inside her that tells her to be close to Bayley, the impulse in her head that pushes her forward to sit almost in Bayley’s lap, to reach out to intertwine their fingers. Bayley only stiffens for a moment, still not used to this type of proximity, but quickly welcomes Sasha to stay in her bubble with a hand around her waist.

 

“Can I make you dinner?” Sasha asks suddenly, turning to look up into Bayley’s warm eyes. She’s a little shocked, by how close their faces are, by Sasha’s abrupt surge to action, by how adamant she seems.

 

“You just got back from work babe, you should relax, I’ll cook if your hungry” Bayley pushes out, regretting and wondering when and why her brain had allowed her to call Sasha “babe”, but the shorter girl doesn’t seem too phased by it, only smiles at the sound of Bayley’s voice. But Sasha is stubborn.

 

“You’ve been doing so much for me,” Sasha whispers taking her eyes away from Bayley’s, settling them to her shoulder as she strokes Bayley’s bicep, “can you just let me do this for you?” She finishes, but it’s not really a question. They both know Sasha will get what she wants. Still Sasha waits for Bayley’s reply, a good excuse to keep tracing her fingertips over her arms. Bayley nods, too afraid to open her mouth, let out noises that would say too much.

 

Sasha spends an extra moment there, holding on, trying to commit the image to memory, before pushing off to head to the kitchen.

 

While Bayley agreed to let Sasha cook, she didn’t want to keep the distance between them from the kitchen to the couch, even as the apartment wasn’t huge, a distance of a few feet. So she follows her after she breaks contact, sits at the tiny two person table in Sasha’s closet of a kitchen, busies herself watching Sasha move about the small space, set water to boil, reach up on her tip toes for spices, until it’s time to set the table.

 

Sasha makes spaghetti. Mostly because it’s easy. But also because Bayley is prone to making a mess and it might give her a new excuse to touch her.

 

They eat in relative silence, save for the forks dragging across Sasha’s new plates. Sasha is just happy Bayley is here, Bayley is happy that Sasha is eating.

 

After a quick squabble that results in Sasha letting Bayley clean the dishes, Bayley stands awkwardly in the kitchen wondering what to do now. Sasha sees the tenseness in her shoulders, places her hands flat against her shoulder blades, finds the knot in her neck and presses down until there’s some release. Bayley lets out a fulfilling sigh, tries not to think about Sasha knowing exactly what she needs.

 

She doesn’t want to leave, but she probably should. She turns around to face Sasha, lets the shorter woman keep her grip around her neck, settles her own hands somewhere around the waistband of her pants. “I should get to sleep, got work bright and early tomorrow.”

 

Bayley means “we should get some sleep” but doesn’t want to uphold the implications if that’s not what Sasha wants. Sasha only nods, knowing this is where Bayley will push her away.

 

She can’t bear the thought though, of having a wall between them right now, so she asks in a plea of pity, “Can you stay?”

 

Bayley’s heart all, but melts to the floor as she feels Sasha’s knees give to the pressure of it all, as she makes better of the placement of her hands in holding Sasha up. Bayley just pulls her closer, places a quick kiss to her forehead. “I can stay.”

 

Sasha breathes a sigh of relief, something debilitating about being alone right now. She pulls away enough from Bayley’s touch, to pull her gently by the wrist into Sasha’s room. It’s not a long walk, but the feeling that settles in Bayley’s stomach is something in between waiting to ride a roller coaster and needing to throw up.

 

Sasha settles into her bed without a word. Bayley stands awkwardly by the door. “C’mon I don’t bite” Sasha offers back when she sees Bayley’s hesitation. There’s a flash of bravery in brown eyes as she kicks off her socks and pulls back the covers on the empty side of the Queen bed. Now or never.

 

_They were just sleeping, no big deal._

 

Bayley settles into the soft sheets, pulling the blankets over her body, facing Sasha, but being sure to leave an ample amount of space between them.

 

There’s a long portion of time devoted to remembering every feature of each other’s faces in the new light of Sasha’s bedroom. The way the intensely warm light of Sasha’s bedside lamp cloaked Bayley’s face. The shadows playing from Sasha’s eyelashes onto her skin.

 

“Can I touch you?” Sasha offers to the air, a tone of voice Bayley could never mistake for anything more than exactly what she’s asking. To touch her. Feel her skin against hers. Nothing more intimate than to be held.

 

Bayley reaches out in response, lays her hands against Sasha’s arms in invitation, lets Sasha decide how much or how little she wants there to be contact.

 

Sasha pushes her arms forward under the blankets to wrap around Bayley’s rib cage, rests her head above the taller woman’s chest. Bayley lets her settle there for a moment.

 

“Is this okay?” She asks when Bayley doesn’t move.

 

“Yeah” comes out of her mouth without thought, because she’s a little uncomfortable, but it’s not because she wants Sasha to pull away, it’s because she doesn’t want to think about Sasha holding her and not loving her. She doesn’t want to think about making a habit out of this when Sasha will eventually get a new boyfriend. And won’t need Bayley anymore to make her feel safe. And Bayley will be left to realize that Sasha could never love her the way she wants.

 

It takes a minute to process before Bayley is pulling away, looking into Sasha’s eyes for reassurance. A look that’s somewhere far away. Something that makes Sasha think that Bayley is going to lean in.

 

And she does. Lean over to pull the string on Sasha’s bedside lamp. To return to her previous position a moment later, lets Sasha sink back into her. The last thing Sasha remembers before falling asleep is the covers being pulled over her shoulders and Bayley’s arms settling around her.

 

It’s beyond comfortable. The pressure and warmth of someone you care about pressed to you. The deep pushes of Sasha’s soft breaths against her neck. But Bayley can’t find sleep; a seemingly common occurrence as of late, with the stress of these new circumstances weighing on her.

 

She finally finds sleep a few hours later, when she’s convinced herself to find hope. That maybe Sasha could love her too, that maybe the lesson to learn from this is greater than the love she could receive. It’s just that Bayley is used to giving and not taking, used to being the one to offer everything she has, in the wake of people not knowing when to stop taking.

 

Sasha isn’t like that. Has given her more support and friendship than she thought she ever would. Didn’t think Sasha would ever let her in, let alone be supportive of her sexuality, or have such a similar sense of humor.

 

Bayley knows in her heart that the potential fallout is worth watching Sasha be the best version of herself.

 

When Sasha wakes up the next morning, she’s the only one in bed. A cold that blows through her room and her mind to Bayley’s absence.

A note waits on the bed beside her.

 

A promise.

 

_Sorry I had to go._

_Be back later._

_Miss you already._

_ <3 _


	10. Hero (reprise)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> REMINDER: warning for violence

he·ro  
/ˈhirō/  
noun  
1\. a person who is admired or idealized for courage, outstanding achievements, or noble qualities.

 

—-

 

When Bayley gets home from work Sasha is in full productive mode. Fulfilling her promise to come back, Bayley spends little time in her own apartment after getting back. Having gotten back from her classes a few hours before, Bayley finds Sasha studying for her finals like no tomorrow. A work horse cycling around the track until the gas tank is empty. She sits on the floor in her living room, having pushed the coffee table against the wall to leave space for her to sprawl out on the floor surrounded by text books and notebooks and loose papers. Sasha reads and rehearses dutifully, reading under her breath, molding the words with her lips and tongue.

 

Sasha barely notices Bayley come in.

 

“You okay?” Bayley asks, because she’s never seen her this focused, this intensely motivated, this manic.

 

“Yeah”, Sasha answers as quickly as possible to not slow her pace, nor chancing a glance up to the taller woman in favor of not losing her place.

 

It’s beyond striking. The contrast of the Sasha she left this morning, clingy to a fault, needing Bayley to stay, and the Sasha in front of her now, desperate to study suddenly when she hadn’t expressed a need to do so vigorously before, a chilling distance between them.

 

It’s sort of like nothing happened, like Finn didn’t take off suddenly after trying to attack her, like Sasha never asked her to stay, like they weren’t friends.

 

And maybe Sasha wants it that way. To not have to think about Finn. Maybe it’s better to push it all away and pretend it doesn’t exist.

 

Bayley decides to leave her alone, let her get through the trying time in her own way, doesn’t need to distract her right now.

 

She leaves Sasha to her work with a “I’ll let you study, I’ll be next door if you need me”

 

Bayley hopes for a moment of confrontation where Sasha asks her to stay again, but the purple haired girl still doesn’t move. This only prompts Bayley to sigh before making her way toward the door. It’s only when the door is closed that Sasha looks up for a moment into the now empty space of her apartment. She only pouts for a moment before returning to her work.

 

Tuesday, the next day, Bayley spends all day at work thinking about the new distance a day without Sasha pushes into her heart. She can’t wait to get home, hoping maybe Sasha won’t push her away in favor of her studying this time. And Bayley understands the importance of getting good grades, and how much Sasha values her education, but it’s not like Bayley and her can’t sit together at least. Just her presence would be enough to settle her mind. It’s not like Bayley isn’t willing to make flashcards and quiz her, it’s not like Bayley wants more than to be there with her. When she finally comes back she finds Sasha in a similar state as the day before, this time perched on her elbows, hovering over a communications textbook. She doesn’t want to bother her, but she makes sure she’s eaten and not dying. Sasha swats her away at first but let’s Bayley make her a cup of coffee. Lets her sit there for a moment to make sure Sasha actually drinks it, but tells her she’s “distracting” a moment later.

 

Wednesday, Bayley doesn’t even try. Lets the small  sounds of movement from the other side of the wall encourage her to be complacent, thinks about how maybe Sasha is coping in her own way.

 

Thursday, she gets home and is about to take the same lonely road as yesterday of ignoring Sasha’s existence and pretending she isn’t hurt by the distance. But there’s a steady knock on her door soon after she gets home, she only has time to rid herself of her worn in shoes and put her bag on the floor.

 

The knocking is relentless, a constant stream of thumps that leave Bayley a little more agitated than rushed. Still the sounds are more annoying than it is to move to the door, so she gets there sooner rather than later. She swings open the door in a forced wave, caring less about who’s on the other side and more on what’s so dire about the situation.

 

It’s Sasha. She’s frantic. A chorus of whines and aches that sound more like lose rambling than actual words in the English language.

 

“Bayley, I’m freaking out! These finals! I’m gonna fail! And I’m gonna hate myself even more than I already do! And Finn! And I don’t know what to do, I just-“

 

Bayley kind of assumed a break through of sorts would happen but didn’t realize Sasha would be on the brink of a panic attack when it did. Still it’s not the panic that takes the taller woman by surprise, it’s Sasha’s hair.

 

Perhaps pretending like Sasha isn’t mid panic isn’t the best idea, but on the other hand Bayley thinks maybe it’s easier to change the subject entirely, instead of trying to talk Sasha off the ledge.

 

“Your hairs black” Bayley voices as Sasha’s whines subside.

 

The confusion on Sasha’s face is somewhat comical, like she herself hadn’t noticed the drastic color change.

 

“Huh? Yeah, it’s black” she repeats in a voice that’s suddenly calm and collected.

 

Bayley shoots through all the possibilities in a second, that perhaps Sasha is in mourning or this is an impulse after a break up kinda thing or maybe the idea of a new beginning.

 

Bayley knows it’s Sasha’s hair and she doesn’t have to ask to change it, it’s just that it’s so abrupt. So different from bubbly purple, that it takes a minute to get used too.

 

Sasha takes a minute to answer the unasked question.

 

“I just needed a change” is a good enough explanation for both of them.

 

“Do you like it?” Sasha finally raises the question, knowing their friendship wasn’t built on purple hair, but still somehow feeling insecure enough to question it.

 

“Yeah, it’s cute” Bayley offers with a smile, no sense of hesitation.

 

“Cute?” Sasha wants to make sure, seemingly free from the insecurity that struck her hard enough to rush over to Bayley’s door a few minutes ago.

 

“Yeah” Bayley asserts again rustling Sasha’s newly dark hair under her hand.

 

Bayley convinces her that studying your heart out is probably a better coping mechanism than drugs but at some point she’s going to have to face the trauma. Sasha agrees unwillingly. She knows Bayley is right. She just wishes the stress of school didn’t have to be coupled with the stress of a violent break up. Sasha decides a little while away from her notes isn’t going to kill her. They watch Cat in the Hat on Bayley’s couch and wait for pizza to be delivered.

 

On Friday, Bayley convinces Sasha to let her ride the subway to school with her. It’s obscenely early, but Sasha wants to get some last minute studying in at the library. The original plan was to get breakfast before Sasha’s last final of the semester, but they decide against it when Sasha pukes up the nothing in her stomach shortly after she wakes up. Sasha leaves her at Kissena Blvd to start her 20 minute walk to campus.

 

There’s a change in Bayley’s brain as she continues on her train to work. She finds a new branch of thought in deciding for herself how to define and maintain her friendship and relationship with Sasha. She can’t wait around hoping Sasha remembers her existence everyday. She will insert herself as a neighbor, friend, and the only person truly there for Sasha, regardless of the strides Sasha makes to keep her at arm’s length. It’s time to stop waiting around for everything to work itself out. Bayley understands better than anyone that Sasha has been going through so much lately, but she can’t wait for Sasha to make the first move.

 

—-

 

By the time Bayley gets home from work her brain is on overdrive, full of all the ways to tell Sasha how she feels. And she knows it’s a little selfish, to thrust this on her right now, but she has to be selfish for once. She practices what to say in her head a million times, a million different ways. She doesn’t care what Sasha says back, as long as it isn’t “get out” or “I hate you” or it pushes Bayley out of her life. She doesn’t care if Sasha loves her back, or needs time to think and process, or just wants to be friends. At the end of it all she needs two things: to get this off her chest, and to still have Sasha in some capacity.

 

And she knows this probably isn’t great timing. Because Sasha is probably exhausted from studying all week and the two finals she took today. And maybe Sasha wants to finally sleep, finally unconsciously process everything that’s happened. But Bayley is ruining that.

 

She’s so caught in her head that she almost doesn’t hear Sasha come home. As the door to Sasha’s apartment opens and locks Bayley’s phone lights up with a new text:

 

_Just got home, I think I did okay, gonna get some sleep, thx for everything <3 _

 

The message makes Bayley smile for only a moment, afraid that what she’s about to do is ripping the carpet from underneath them too suddenly.

 

She’s more than ready to sabotage herself with a message that reads:

 

_I’m so proud of you_

 

_But can I come over I have something important to tell you_

But Bayley doesn’t have time to hit send, when the sound of harsh knocking scares her to her core, makes her phone fall out of her hand.

 

The sound is so loud that Bayley almost thinks that someone’s knocking on her door, but her phone beeps again prompting her to pick it up off the floor.

 

_I think it’s Finn._

 

_Don’t open your door._

 

The sound continues as Bayley starts to freak out.

 

Bayley frantically types back.

 

_I hope ur not opening your door either_

 

Bayley’s text is sent in vain, as she soon hears crashing bangs against Sasha’s door, as if someone was using all their body weight to push up against the door.

 

Finn crashes the bottom of his foot into the door just below the knob until the lock snaps out of place and allows him entrance. Bayley can hear the swing of the door which throws her into action.

 

She moves toward her own door as fast as she can leaving it open behind her as she reaches Sasha’s. When she reaches the broken in door it’s closed again, the knob hanging off but still functionally in place in the wall, Bayley pushes against it with increasing anger.

 

Finn had pushed Sasha’s arm chair in front of the door once he had broken in to eliminate anyone else from coming in. Bayley pushes as hard as she can but her arms are getting sore, she assumes Sasha is hiding as there aren’t any noises coming from inside the apartment. Bayley takes a few shaky breaths as she leans herself against the door limply, taking a moment to think logically as she willed more oxygen to her brain.

 

Her break ends abruptly to the sound of Sasha’s shrill screams and Finn’s heavy voice.

 

“SHUT THE FUCK UP”, he urges sharply wrapping his fingers around Sasha’s mouth, picking her up from her hiding place after dragging her out from under her bed, muffling her continued screams.

 

Bayley finds new passion in pushing the door open, running from the short distance of the narrow hallway and crashing all her body weight into the door. She finds a good rhythm and finally forces a few inches of space between the wall and door, that she squishes her body through with no remorse for the pressure it puts on her bones.

 

She finds Sasha in her bedroom, laid out on the edge of the bed, her legs on either side of Finn as he holds her in place. She continues to scream, her pupils blown wide. He continues to shove his hand around her throat, his pants unbuttoned, his belt hanging loose.

 

Bayley springs into action trying to separate them as fast as she can. Her movements lack confidence and charisma, as she delivers a hard punch to the back of his head, that in hindsight probably hurt her knuckles more than his skull, and drags Sasha away toward the headboard. Sasha practically somersaults out of the precarious position, scrabbling up to her feet.

 

It happens quickly, leaving Finn just a moment to scratch at the now vacant space on the bed, hoping to latch Sasha back into his claws. He grunts at the loss, losing his mind and Sasha all at once.

 

“Aw super dyke’s here to save the day again” he spits indignantly, a gross sarcasm dripping from his gums as he feign claps toward the two women now stood in the corner of the room, Bayley stood in front of Sasha, shielding her as best she can.

 

Bayley doesn’t react to his words, she can’t let the words reach her brain or she’ll crumble.

 

Finn approaches them slowly, a haunting hesitation to his steps. He comes face to face with Bayley first. She goes to punch him in the face, but he takes the opening to grab her from under the armpits, lift her off the ground and toss her out of the way. She lands some 3 feet away, her leg breaking her fall and twisting underneath her.

 

It’s then that Bayley really looks at Sasha for the first time in the last few minutes. She really takes in the fear in her eyes, the mascara running down her face in waves, the course knots in her hair, the tear in the front of her shirt. She looks like a lost child who just wants the nightmare to end. Bayley swears to herself in that split second that she will do anything to protect her.

 

But when she notices the glint in Sasha’s eyes grow darker she moves her eyes to Finn. In his hand: a pocket knife extended toward Sasha’s face.

 

“No” is all Bayley can make herself say.

 

“Not so fun to play hero now” he whines to Bayley, still looking at Sasha the blade coming down toward her neck, Sasha doing her best not to move as she continues to shake and cry.

 

When Bayley doesn’t answer his remark he steps back to face her, a momentary relief to both women, but a new equally scary possibility of Bayley being killed too.

 

“It’s not so fun playing hero now, huh?” He asserts again this time with more force, this time facing Bayley. She knows he wants an answer, but doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know that when she opens her mouth actual words will come out, doesn’t know what he wants to hear. So she frantically shakes her head hoping that’s enough for him.

 

“Good” he answers himself, seemingly satisfied with Bayley’s gesture.

 

He turns around in a fluid motion, closing the distance between himself and Sasha. At the raise of his knife filled hand, Bayley sees everything in slow motion.

 

She pushes herself off the ground, pushes Sasha out of the way of the swinging blade, catches the sharp end of the blade against the underside of her forearm, a pain splitting almost all the space between her pinky and elbow. She doesn’t think about the pain of her flesh being sliced open as she launches her uninjured shin into Finn’s balls with no remorse.

 

He stumbles back at the impact, the pocket knife clattering on the floor as he drops to his knees and covers his genitals. His eyes slam shut, his mouth falls open.

 

Bayley takes this time to act, scrambles to help Sasha up off the floor from where she’d pushed her out of the way, grabs her hand, pulls her to the door, squeezes through the opening she’d made and locks them both in her apartment.

 

She forgets that she’s bleeding profusely until she wipes Sasha’s hair out of her face and leaves blood there.

 

She calls the cops, hoping Finn doesn’t get smart and run before they can get there. But they live in the city and an entire building could probably burn down before the cops show up.

 

Bayley hears sirens shortly after, hoping that Finn doesn’t take the hint. Sasha is in mother mode, wrapping a towel around Bayley’s arm to stop her from potentially bleeding out. Sasha has to be concerned about it because Bayley isn’t, an intense focus on keeping Sasha safe, on getting Finn arrested.

 

When the sirens sounds close, Sasha moves to open the door, but Bayley doesn’t let her until a cop actually knocks on her door, fully identifying himself. When they search Sasha’s apartment, Finn is gone.

 

Sasha’s about to finalize an official police report, when Bayley collapses.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry not sorry


	11. Patient

pa·tient

/ˈpāSHənt/

adjective

1.able to accept or tolerate delays, problems, or suffering without becoming annoyed or anxious.

 

noun

2.a person receiving or registered to receive medical treatment.

 

**—-**

 

Sasha’s about to finalize an official police report, when Bayley collapses.

 

Sasha’s brain stalls, a panic that can’t settle itself among anything prior in her head.

 

They unceremoniously flop her onto a gurney and stuff her in the back of an ambulance. They let Sasha ride in the ambulance with them after she frantically tugs on an EMT’s arm relentlessly demanding her wishes in a screech that’s easier to give in to than continue to listen to. Bayley remains out cold as they ride to the hospital, regardless of their treatment. They can’t do much more than try to keep her stable as they don’t carry blood on ambulances and they don’t even know her blood type. They just have to wait.

 

Sasha can’t cry anymore, she’s too scared, still pumping on adrenaline. She watches the lifeless eyes of the girl she loves remain unmoving, she watches her head yield to the movement of the vehicle, her mouth fall open, her limbs stay limp.

 

When they finally get to the hospital it feels like years have passed. Sasha knows it’s her time to get out of the way and let them do their job. She can’t help anymore.

 

She can’t do anything but wait.

 

So she waits, in the hospital lobby, with a promise from a desk secretary that she would be notified if and when there were developments. She waits, not knowing if Bayley is alive or dead.

 

She thinks to call Bayley’s parents back in California, because whether they accept her or not they deserve to know what’s happening. She thinks to call Bayley’s job, let them know the situation. But her and Bayley both left their phones somewhere in their apartments, long forgotten in favor of the chaos.

 

It’s been hours and Sasha has made herself sick twice, going to the hospital bathrooms that smell of Lysol and death to rid her guts of anything in her system. She’s almost fought herself to sleep when the secretary calls her name.

 

“Room 536”

 

Sasha’s says “thank you” in a voice she’s never heard before, like quiet desperation mixed with joyous relief.

 

When she scrambles into the room, Bayley is laid out lifeless on the hospital bed. Her injured arm is still split open but pressed into large gauze to soak up any blood. Her other arm is hooked to an iv and a bag of blood. Sasha takes note of the harsh bruises where the needles enter her skin. The doctor informs her that Bayley is stable. That’s all she really needs to hear. He tells her more, about how they gave her something to clot her blood, that she would still need stitches in a few hours, but she doesn’t really hear it, just knows that Bayley will be okay.

 

When the doctor leaves the room, Sasha can’t help herself. She cries out for the hundredth time. She cries out of relief, for the things she had been so close to losing. She knows then and there that she has to confront this feeling, that if Bayley died she’d be ruined.

 

“I love you”, she cries out to a motionless body, grappling on to one of Bayley’s cold hands, squeezing until she’s certain she feels a pulse.

 

She stays there for a long time, sat in an uncomfortable wooden chair beside her bed, her head bowed down against Bayley’s hip, her fingers intertwined with Bayley’s, her eyes pouring out.

 

She doesn’t move until Bayley’s fingers start to twitch against hers, prompting her to lift her head, to look up toward Bayley’s chocolate irises. They open in a delicate fluttering, pronounced with a wetness that instantly fills her eyes.

 

“Sasha” the hospital patient breathes out in a groggy cough, but to Sasha her name sounds like a symphony on Bayley’s lips.

 

“I’m here” is all she can make herself say back, squeezing her hand harder, “I’m right here”

 

She springs up to bring her face closer to Bayley’s, an action fueled by the sudden need to touch her skin. She moves close enough to kiss her but decides against it at the feeling of Bayley’s weak breaths against her lips. Instead she pushes her forehead against Bayley’s, lets them both be stagnant for a moment, lets them process everything, realize that everything is going to be okay.

 

It’s not long before Sasha is playing mother again, forcing Bayley to stay in bed as to not rustle her gauze, even when Bayley reassures her that she’s fine, tilting a cup of water toward Bayley so she doesn’t have to sit all the way up, making sure she’s comfortable, warm enough.

 

The doctor comes back a few hours later when they decide it’s time to stitch up her arm. They try to numb the area as best as possible but the cut is deep and the novocaine only works so well. Sasha lets Bayley squeeze her hand through the pain.

 

It takes Sasha, two nurses, and the doctor doing the actual stitching to stop Bayley from squirming as the needle punctures her skin repeatedly. Sasha tries to distract her from the pain; brushing her fingers through Bayley’s brown hair, squeezing her other hand in a steep contrast, whispering against her ear, words of encouragement like “you’re okay” and “it’s almost over”

 

Bayley keeps her eyes clenched shut for the entire duration, trying not to move against the pain, pushes back into Sasha as much as she can.

 

When it’s over, Bayley’s arm is neatly stitched together in a slit from her elbow to pinky finger. It’s still hurts a lot, but the pressure of it has been released and the hard part is over, now she just has to be patient, let it heal.

 

The two nurses release their grip on her, but Sasha keeps one hand in Bayley’s hair and the other intertwined with Bayley’s fingers.

 

As one of the nurses and the doctor leave the room after explaining to Bayley that she could be discharged tomorrow as long as her vitals remain stable and the stitches stay in, the second nurse stays behind momentarily. He seemingly checks his surroundings waiting for clear air from any of his co-workers before finding the right time to speak something arguably unprofessional.

 

“You two are cute together,” He asserts kindly with a smile that comes off completely genuine and non-threatening, an innocent compliment he felt it was necessary to give.

 

Bayley wants to protest, tell him they’re just friends, that it’s not like that (as much as she wants it to be), but the sheer idea that someone thinks they’re a couple, thinks they make a cute one makes her brain short circuit.

 

Sasha doesn’t seem phased though, not halting the movement of her nails against Bayley’s scalp. Instead she just smiles back, tight lipped and longing, “Thank you” she says before Bayley can correct him.

 

He leaves after that, satisfied with the effect of his compliment.

 

Bayley sits up then, her back slouched against her pillow, but her chin held high like she’s got something important to say.

 

Sasha removes her hand from her hair then, leaving room for Bayley to breathe, but still not letting go of her hand. She looks down then, as Bayley’s eyes train on her and stay there. The intensity is too much for Sasha so she settles her eyes on their intertwined hands resting beside the brunette on the bed.

 

“I thought you were dead” Sasha mutters under her breath as fresh tears leak from her eyes, “I didn’t- I couldn’t do anything-“

 

“Shhhh,” Bayley soothes, “I’m okay, I’m right here”

 

Sasha takes a deep breath, her shoulders rising and falling with the harsh inhale and exhale. She looks up as Bayley squeezes her hand tighter, brushes her thumb over Sasha’s knuckles.

 

“Its okay”

 

And Sasha wants to believe her, wants to think that it’s all over, that Finn will never come back, that she passed all her classes, that she won’t be plagued with nightmares for the rest of her life, that Bayley will love her back. But she can’t. She knows the law of entropy, knows that everything in the universe is always moving toward chaos.

 

But Bayley is hope. A sign from the universe that trying to be better is a viable option, that wanting love may not be in vain.

 

“C’mere” Bayley whispers when Sasha’s tears don’t yield. Sasha moves to come closer, sits on the edge of the bed with her lower back against one of Bayley’s knees, facing the chair she had previously sat in. It’s a little awkward, but it allows Bayley to wrap her arms around her, pull her in, for Sasha to rest her head on Bayley’s shoulder. Sasha reaches back, pushing her fists against Bayley’s stomach.

 

When Bayley pulls back to wipe away Sasha’s tears she can only instigate a small space between them as Sasha has grabbed a handful of her shirt and kept her close. The proximity is intoxicating, but Bayley can’t bring herself to make the smart move this time. So she wipes Sasha’s tears, and tries not to be controlled by her emotions.

 

Sasha looks at her like she is lost, lost in the pores of her skin, the tip of her nose, the worried crease on her forehead, the dip of her Cupid’s bow, the pink of her lips. Bayley lets her look. Bayley lets her look mostly because she’s looking too, at the way Sasha scans her but doesn’t judge her, the way her eyes focus and unfocus in rhythmic beats, the way her eyes and cheeks shine in a post-cry glow.

 

“You’re so beautiful” Bayley lets slip because it’s true, pushing a strand of her hair out of her face. Sasha’s eyes dilate then, a sudden urge to try for something. In an act of courage she lets go of her hold on the bottom of Bayley’s shirt, brings her hands up to rest her palms against the brunette’s collar bones, feel the hard against her skin, pushes close enough to feel her heartbeat.

 

She pushes forward with the new leverage against the pleas in her head not to, placing her lips square against Bayley’s for the first time.

 

It’s not ideal. There’s a static of nothing, just Bayley and Sasha, no movement, just a prolonged pressure of lips pressed together, a necessary wait to make sure the intended effect is communicated. Sasha is still crying, a cold line that finds its way onto Bayley’s cheeks as well. Bayley doesn’t push into it, but Sasha makes sure she knows.

 

Bayley can’t really blame her, if she thought Sasha was about to die, she’d probably kiss her too, in a second of misplaced desperation and adrenaline that still needs time to subside. But she still wishes they could have waited for a better moment, when Bayley wasn’t in a hospital bed and Sasha wasn’t close to drowning in her own tears, when the world hadn’t placed such a hefty curse on their fortune.

 

So she gives Sasha her time, but has to push her back, and she tries to be as gentle as she can. She tries to communicate everything in her face.

 

_I’m sorry. I love you._

 

But she knows she’ll have to use her words.

 

“Not now” she whispers into the new space between them and it kills her, because Sasha only cries harder.

 

She pulls her back to her immediately, holding Sasha’s head against her shoulder, one hand threaded into her hair, the other rubbing comforting strokes along the length of her back. She keeps her there as Sasha’s hands remain limp, refusing to complete the embrace, as Sasha hiccups and sobs.

 

Bayley can’t let the cries take her over, but her own eyes start to fill as well. She knows everything they have has to come out in its own time, can't be prompted by a false sense of potential death. She hopes Sasha heard the promise in her words.

 

“Not now” but maybe tomorrow, maybe someday, when Bayley isn’t almost bleeding out, when Sasha isn’t almost getting raped and beat, when Sasha doesn’t have to cry for all the things the world has striped her of, when Bayley can tell the universe she’s gay without feeling like the world will crumble in on her, when Sasha can say “I love you” without being afraid that Bayley will be taken from her too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really waited 11 chapters to have them kiss...and that’s it? Sorry for ruining ur lives! But it’ll get better I promise. The suffering is almost over. Almost!


	12. Normal

nor·mal

/ˈnôrməl/

adjective

 

1.conforming to a standard; usual, typical, or expected.

 

—-

 

When they leave the hospital the next morning Bayley couldn’t be more happy that it’s a Saturday. She would hate to have to go into work after all this, and she’s already fearing the moment her 5 year old students inevitably ask her about the harsh line against her arm. Sasha is a little too over protective, offering to help Bayley walk from her room to the lobby, but Bayley has to remind her that the injury is to her arm and not her legs. Still, Bayley appreciates the care. Bayley tries not to think too hard about Sasha calling out of work from a pay phone outside of the hospital, taking a full day to care for Bayley, but going in late on a day when it was a matter of her own health.

 

Taking a taxi home is the fastest and easiest option, but the ride is silent, Sasha opting to sit in the front seat wishing to force some physical space between them for the time being, thinking maybe Bayley wants some space after everything too.

 

When they get to their apartment building a cold chill sends itself down Sasha’s spine at the realization that she’ll have to face the inside of her apartment again. But the feeling is coated in warmth when Bayley takes her hand as they walk through the lobby. The elevator ride is silent too, Bayley squeezing her hand. 

 

In front of Sasha’s apartment door, she stands there idly waiting for a surge of bravery that doesn’t come. 

 

“Will you come in with me?” Sasha asks in a small voice that tells Bayley of her fear.

 

Bayley takes the moment to find her courage, to take one for the team. She pushes against the broken door knob, muttering something about getting a new one. They step inside together and Bayley feels the wall for the light switch with her free hand, while the other stays held onto Sasha. 

 

As light takes over the space, Sasha gasps. She can’t take the darkness out still. There are clothes strewn about the floor, her couch pillows in different corners of the room, her bedroom door thrown open, all evidence of Finn’s mayhem. 

 

But most significant is the pool of blood still sitting on the carpet of Sasha’s bedroom floor, a splash of liquid from the initial breaking of skin, something Sasha wishes would just disappear. Sasha is still at the sight of it all, but can’t bring herself to draw her eyes away either, a trance of a replay of all the events that have recently transpired. Tears threaten to spill, but Bayley interferes before they can.

 

“Let's get you out of here,” she demands carefully, knowing all too well the triggering nature of coming back to the crime scene. 

 

“I just need to find my phone” Sasha asserts back taking a second to study the bloody rag left on her countertop before moving to look for her phone. 

 

Bayley finds it on the floor next to Sasha’s bed 10 minutes later, probably thrown there in the chaos of Finn breaking in.

 

It serves as a reminder of the fact that he’s still free out there, still knows where Sasha lives. 

 

Bayley sees the hurt in her eyes, the way they bulge out and swim in tears. She moves quickly enough to feel forced but not quickly enough to scare Sasha enough to do more than flinch. And she does flinch at the feeling of Bayley taking her hand in hers again, but it’s only for the second it takes to remind herself that it’s Bayley. Not him.

 

“C’mon,” she asserts calmly trying to make the situation better but making sure Sasha knows she always has a choice, “you can stay with me.”

 

And it’s not much better in Bayley’s apartment because Sasha can now stare at the space Bayley’s cold lifeless body once laid, can remember the bustle of police and EMTs scouring the floor for evidence. Bayley doesn’t realize it until the fear in Sasha’s eyes doesn’t disappear.

 

“Can I shower?” Sasha asks in a voice of pure sadness, like it held the weight of the world. Like maybe she can scrape out some of the dirt in her heart, by freeing herself from the dirt on her skin.

 

“Of course” Bayley answers because she doesn’t know what else to say. 

 

Still, with her question answered, Sasha doesn’t move toward Bayley’s bathroom, doesn’t move to complete any tasks.

 

“Do you need help?” Bayley tries in an attempt to break her from her deep contemplation. She hopes Sasha knows her intentions are pure.

 

Sasha only nods, a soft murmur on her lips that Bayley can’t decipher, but she understands the tone as a plea. So Bayley reaches for her hand and pulls her gently to stand, guides her into the bathroom, where the shorter girl immediately crumbles onto the closed toilet seat. Bayley tugs softly on the firm grip Sasha holds around her fingers to make her let go long enough for her to get her a new towel. When Bayley comes back a moment later Sasha hasn’t moved. But the sight of Bayley puts her in motion, as she reaches for the bottom hem of her shirt with little regard for who’s around. She takes her shirt off as Bayley lays out the towel, and starts the water for Sasha. The sight of her shirtless figure in front of her makes her brain short circuit against her better judgement. 

 

Sasha doesn’t seem to notice Bayley’s discomfort, or maybe she sees it as something else, because as their eyes reach each other again Sasha is moving to stand, pulling Bayley into a warm embrace. 

 

Sasha’s bare warm skin pressed to her is a new feeling. For a moment she questions if Sasha may be sick as she feels warmer than usual. She wouldn’t be surprised with how little sleep she’s been getting. But the thought escapes her as she’s more caught up in the way Sasha’s deep exhales press into her collar bone, the way her arms wrap firmly around her neck, the absolute sense of comfort. 

 

It’s been a few minutes but Sasha isn’t moving, a calm almost lulling herself to sleep in Bayley’s arms. She feels like she’s doing it too often, making Sasha feel rejected. And it’s the last thing she wants. But they can’t stand there forever as much as either of them want to. So she pushes back, secures her hands around Sasha’s shoulders as Sasha’s arms slide down from her neck to settle against her stomach. When their eyes meet Sasha’s are still murky, a combination that makes her look like she’s in another world, high on drugs, or just really that sad. Bayley holds her there for a moment, watches her, looks into her eyes as if to really see if she was okay. The answer is  _ no. _

 

“Can you take it from here?” Bayley asks in reference to Sasha’s shower, because she suddenly feels like she has to be far away from Sasha. Because her momentary options are distance or getting in the shower with the shorter woman, and she can’t imagine crossing that boundary right now. 

 

But Sasha is weary of being alone, even for the 10 to 15 minutes it’ll take her to shower, so she nods, but when Bayley tries to pull away she doesn’t let go.

 

“Can you stay in here?” It’s desperate and Bayley knows what she means. 

 

“Okay” she says because she can’t be cruel. 

 

So Bayley turns around toward the door, waits for Sasha to strip and to hear the sound of Sasha’s feet pad into the porcelain floor of the shower, the sound of the curtain closing behind her.

 

She sits on the closed toilet and waits. Listens to Sasha’s deep sighs as she lathers shampoo into her hair, rinses it out, does the same with conditioner, before she speaks again.

 

“Do you think we’ll ever be back to normal?” Sasha asks in more of a plea than anything else. The words startle Bayley as they are calm and wistful against the choppy rush of the stream of water from the shower head. But she doesn’t know how to answer it, because inevitably things will be okay, but other things will be awry too. But that’s not the question. 

 

“What is normal to begin with?” Is what she settles on even though she knows it’s not what Sasha needs to hear. Because she doesn’t know what Sasha means exactly. Was it normal when Finn was coming around? Was it normal before Bayley moved in? Was it normal 3 years ago before she met him? Bayley doesn’t know.

 

The question is half rhetorical. Bayley thinks Sasha doesn’t have a good answer in the silence that follows, but then Sasha is shutting off the water, clearing the air for all the things she wants to fill it with.

 

“Normal is not wanting to die. Normal is me and you watching movies on my couch, and getting ice cream at 3 am, normal is us, together in any capacity, not afraid that our next move equals disaster,” she answers with more strength and conviction than Bayley has heard from her in the last few days. It’s jarring and settling at the same time. That Sasha feels that strongly, that she’s okay to put it on display. And Bayley wishes she could see the fire in her eyes in that moment, her willingness to fight for what they have, regardless of how they define it.

 

Bayley hands her the towel then, from behind the shower curtain, mouthing a soft “ok” as Sasha takes it from her. She steps out with the towel wrapped around her. Bayley looks at her, but the look in her eyes is different than what she expected, a resigned pain in dark irises. It bleeds from Sasha’s heart to Bayley’s. 

 

She lets Sasha rummage through her clothes to find something to wear. She settles on a sweatshirt from Bayley’s high school back in California, because Sasha sees how worn in it is and how it probably has the most parts of Bayley on it, so she requests to wear it and Bayley can’t say no. The sleeves are too long and the hem comes up to Sasha’s mid thigh, so she can’t really see the boxers she loaned her underneath, but it's warm and it smells like Bayley and that’s all that matters.

 

But the warmth and smell of the sweater don’t suffice, Sasha wants the real thing. So when she tucks herself into Bayley’s bed, she calls to the taller woman who is in another room in the apartment unknown to Sasha.

 

“Bay, can you stay with me?”

 

Bayley appears in the doorway then, holding two pillows in her arms.

 

“I was just getting you pillows, Sash” she calls back in lieu of an “of course”. 

 

“You’re my pillow” Sasha clashes back in a voice that is too indignant and sure of itself for Bayley to fight.

 

And it’s kind of okay for a moment, where Bayley is coming to be there regardless of what lay ahead, when Sasha is certain enough to tell Bayley she needs her, when they are content.

 

So Bayley comes to do her job, she slides into bed and waits for Sasha to rest her head on her chest, strokes her still wet hair until her breathing evens out. She finds her eyes growing heavy more readily than she thought. The security of the pressure against her chest, Sasha’s fingers pressed into her hip bone, the scent of her ocean breeze shampoo in Sasha’s hair. 

 

If this is normal, Bayley is ready for it. 

>  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk how I feel about this chapter, Ik it’s like necessary but I’m still not 100% where I’m headed with it all soooo well see


	13. Help

/help/

_verb_

  
1.make it easier for (someone) to do something by offering one's services or resources.

 

\----

 

The first time Sasha had thought about going to see a therapist, she was 14. Her first boyfriend had just broken up with her and she’d found herself thinking about all the things she could do to herself to end it all. She contemplated death too often, pills, ropes, bridges, razorblades. A flood of all the teachers and counselors in her life telling her to seek help if needed ran through her mind in an instant. But Sasha had never been someone to ask for things: material items, love, or help. When her little brother was born, life officially stopped being about her. Anything she could do to give him what he needed, to be strong so that he could be weak, she would do. Her mother too, had told her time and again what a good daughter she was, the woman she could be.

 

Still, she wasn’t entirely unaware that maybe seeking help was less about this break up and more about all the things she’d taken on in her life already: her father walking out on them, her brother’s autism, moving from place to place too many times to count, not feeling good enough.

 

But she didn’t have the courage, didn’t know how to tell her mother that sometimes she felt like she couldn’t breathe. Instead she drowns her sorrows alone, pretends like they don’t exist, watches the sunrise more than she sleeps, pushes down the urge to break her foot against the wall.

 

And things do get easier, because she puts her time in other things, fakes a smile until she can do it without force, throws herself into working out, and her school work, and joins the wrestling team. And maybe it’s not the healthiest thing to do, but she’s 14 and being honest with yourself isn’t the easiest task. So she swallows it down, hides it from her friends and her family, until she’s graduating high school and moving to New York and meeting Finn and mostly forgetting about the small girl she once was.

 

—-

 

When Sasha wakes up in Bayley’s arms, the trauma in her brain isn’t at the forefront, but the ever-present pulse of negativity still sits at the base of her skull. Bayley is still asleep, looking entirely too peaceful for Sasha to move too much. So she stays there, brushing her thumb against her jawline, watching over her as her eyes shift behind her eyelids, her lips hike up into a tiny smile.

 

She knows Bayley has done everything in her power to make this situation as easy on Sasha as possible and she’s beyond grateful, forever indebted, for all the sacrifices she’s made for Sasha’s well being. But Bayley isn’t a psychiatrist, Bayley can only do so much. And it’s not that Sasha doesn’t wish being so in love could fix the low parts of her psyche, but the truth is that it can’t. So she pulls Bayley closer, hopes she’ll understand that Sasha needs someone else’s help too, that she isn’t enough to tie all the loose ends.

 

When Bayley wakes up, it’s sudden. Her body pushes up off the bed in an attempt to feel right with the world, pushing Sasha out of her arms. The quick awakening and heaving breaths tell Sasha what’s wrong before Bayley lets out the word, “nightmare”.

 

Sasha doesn’t ask what it was about, she knows it must have something to do with all of this. It’s too soon for Bayley to go into details, to relive the scene, for Sasha to take it in. So she waits for Bayley to settle down, takes her hand and does her best to soothe her. The guilt settles in then. That Sasha dragged Bayley into all of this, let her be ruined with it too before they’d ever had a chance to be anything, but broken. But Bayley pulls her in again, Sasha settles into her lap, straddling her hips. They stay there for a long time, just holding each other, until Bayley’s breathing is even again, and Sasha finds the strength to not completely blame herself.

 

“You okay?” Sasha asks some time later but the words feel stale on her tongue, because “okay” doesn’t seem like a good word for anything anymore, but Bayley knows what she means, saves Sasha from a loud outburst like she had in the shower.

 

“Yeah”, Bayley mutters into Sasha’s neck, but doesn’t let go. But Sasha has to instigate some space, wants to see her eyes.

 

“Bayley” she starts in a voice that makes it seem like she’s unsure if she’s truly listening. Bayley only finds her eyes, waits for Sasha to continue, “I want to go see a doctor”

 

Bayley’s eyes flash then, a surge of confusion and fear. She scrambles to grasp all the parts of Sasha at once, a flurry of “shit, did he hurt you? How did I not realize before?” which leaves Sasha to push back, to grab her by the wrists to stop her from searching for something before she can correct her.

 

“Bayley,” she asserts to refocus her, “I’m fine, he didn’t get me, I-“ but here comes the hard part. Admitting that she needs Bayley has never been a problem, because the payoff of having her around is worth feeling weak for asking for her to stay. But Sasha has never been to a therapist or psychiatrist or anything, and maybe asking for help won’t be worth the outcome, maybe she’s making herself feel small for nothing. But Bayley looks so open and ready for anything in that moment, like she’s ready to protect Sasha from any pulses of doubt, like she could never judge her, like she could only understand. So she pushes through the insecurity. She wants to be better for Bayley. She wants to be better for herself.

“I need help, see a therapist or something”

 

She assumes that Bayley’s eyes will flash disappointment that she couldn’t be the cure, fear that Sasha is too far gone to be loved. But the brown irises only fill with love. “Okay” is her answer, a single word that is the perfect amount of support and understanding. There is none of the dismissal that Sasha was waiting for.

 

——

 

Bayley spends a good portion of the day with her laptop open scouring the internet for potential therapists for Sasha. She reads dutifully taking notes on business hours and rates and what insurance they accept and if their business hours are compatible with Sasha’s work schedule and commute times. When she’s done she presents the list to Sasha hoping one seems suitable enough for her.

 

When Sasha walks into an office 2 blocks from the apartment a week later, scared shitless would be a good description for how she feels. The room is cold and the air seems thicker as soon as she walks into the waiting area. She assumes the air quality has to do with the common area of releasing negative energy.

 

But, the receptionist seems all too cheery to be there as she checks Sasha in. She’s blonde, and tall from what Sasha can tell. She’s almost mad at the smile on her face until she gives Sasha’s hand a brief squeeze from its position laid on the counter, and whispers a reassuring “you’ll be fine.” Sasha hadn’t realized her fear was that obvious. Or maybe she does this with all the new patients. Sasha doesn’t like that word, “patients”, makes her feel like she’s sick.

 

Dr. Hemsley calls her into another room sooner rather than later, which Sasha is grateful for because the blonde receptionist is looking like she wants to start a conversation and Sasha isn’t sure she can stomach it right now.

 

Dr.Hemsley insists that Sasha call him Hunter, which is equally as intimidating. The first thing Sasha takes notice of are his large muscles, a reminder of Finn and why she’s here. For a moment she thinks maybe this was a mistake, maybe a female therapist would be better. But then she sees the laugh lines around his mouth, the wrinkles around his eyes and she feels a warmth settle within her. She can’t help but recognize the fatherly qualities in him, the sharp contrast of his dominant appearance and his calming energy.

 

He asks her light questions. Mostly about her interests and friends and everyday life. He establishes a basis for sharing information, a comfortability in Sasha being open. And she is, to a point. She tells him about Bayley and how she’s been her support system as of late. She leaves out the part about being in love with her, but she can’t stop her eyes from shining when she mentions the brunette.

 

She doesn’t talk about Finn. Not yet. Hunter doesn’t want that. This is about talk. This is about communicating with herself through an unbiased party. Communication isn’t effective in nonsensical heavy swings, it takes time.

 

But Sasha still feels softer after, like talking and explaining settled something for her. It’s a baby step and that’s all she’s really looking for at this point.

 

But the weight of how long this process is going to take sits heavy on shoulders, the implications of commitment hinder her from feeling completely at ease. So when she walks back into the waiting room the last thing she wants is to be acknowledged.

 

The voice of the receptionist cuts into her self-deprecating train of thought, “how’d it go?”

 

It seems lighthearted enough but Sasha can’t stop the small bite in her words.

 

“Am I obligated to answer that?”

 

The blonde smiles at that, like she’s used to patients being a little brash and rough around the edges.

 

“No,” she starts in a bright voice, “but I do have to know if you’d like to schedule another appointment”

 

Sasha mulls it over in her head for a moment, wonders where this is a job for the blonde and how seemingly happy she actually is to be there, can see Bayley’s disgruntled face as Sasha tells her she’s giving up already.

 

“Sure, why not?”

 

She only smiles again, bigger this time, seemingly ecstatic that Sasha will be returning. The clear glee is pushing Sasha right in the rib cage, wants to know how and why she’s so happy.

 

“What’s with all the energy? The secretary job gets you that pumped?” Sasha tries to ask without sounding too rude. She doesn’t seem alarmed by the question at all.

 

“My dad and Dr. Hemsley used to work together, I’m just glad to help him help other people. It’s exciting when people want to keep getting better” she explains, typing in the information for Sasha’s next appointment.

 

Sasha supposes that’s a good answer, supposes that there can be people that pure in the world. She nods in understanding, hopes the movement portrays the respect she has for the blonde’s morals.

 

“Oh, my names Charlotte, by the way” she explains as if they were already knee deep in a friendship and she’d forgotten to mention her name. Sasha takes it as it is, thinks maybe she can start being nicer to more strangers, let people in. She’s just the secretary at her therapist but maybe that’s enough. She’s no Bayley, but Sasha only needs one of those.

 

——

 

Week 2 is a little harder. Hunter asks about her childhood and Sasha is crying before she can get more than a sentence out. It's a steep uphill climb that's going to rid her of her security, her breath, her sanity. But he reassures her that the pavement has to be pulled from the foundation, that new concrete has to be laid to fill all the cracks, to rework the trauma into malleable clay, put it in places that fuel growth more than decay.

 

So she tells him about the guilt and the sorrow. The making Father's Day cards for her uncle. The promise to protect her brother that she couldn’t always keep. Trying to settle on an identity with a white mother and black father. Trying not to fall into stereotypes and misrepresentations, not feeling guilty about being herself. Trying to decide if she likes girls or if she was trying to instigate herself as another minority. So she tells him. And she cries.

 

She cries like Moses split the ocean just to fill it with her tears, and Hunter offers her tissues, gives her time, but she’s only hoping for Bayley to hold her.

 

The look on her face walking out of that office is one of pensive intensity, but Charlotte doesn’t seem to get the hint.

 

“How’d it go?”

 

Sasha really tries to smile at the genuine curiosity, the care, tries to feel the weight of someone else’s intentions without brushing it off with a “fine”.

 

“okay, I guess, I’m still not exactly sure how I’m supposed to feel after these.”

 

Charlotte nods in understanding, a gracious smile for Sasha’s willingness to meet her half way. It’s a moment of willful silence before Sasha schedules her next appointment and leaves. They both know what it means, where they stand, as normal as a friendly relationship between one and their therapist’s secretary could be.

 

\----

 

When Sasha gets home, home meaning Bayley’s apartment because she still can’t face the inside of her own, can’t bring herself to bridge that gap in therapy yet, she finds herself smiling more readily. There’s something about allocating specific time for her demons that leaves more room for the small joys like walking in on Bayley making them dinner, the smell permeating her nose, but the sight changing the gears in her brain from a track of dismissive pasts to a path of perceptive journey. The dark thoughts escape her long enough to only think about Bayley and her in the kitchen, eating quietly, until Bayley asks her about her day, and Sasha can’t hide the joy in just her eyes anymore, she has to show her teeth, voice the blessing that is this moment.

She has to remind herself not to celebrate prematurely, that the mountain is still steep and waiting for her. But Bayley sees the momentary lapse in her smile, takes her hand, reminds her that the small things are worth it too, that leaps aren’t the only means of growth.

 

So Sasha will take what she can get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Charlotte???? how do yall feel about that???
> 
>  
> 
> ...Becky?


	14. Friend (reprise)

friend   
/frend/   
noun   
1\. a person whom one knows and with whom one has a bond of mutual affection, typically exclusive of sexual or family relations.

 

——

 

The third week of therapy is more of a leap than a baby step. Hunter asks her to explain why she’s here talking to him, why she sought him out. The answer has always seemed clear: a screaming guilt in her own chest. But he doesn’t accept it. He wants to know what she wants from this, what the final straw was to get her here. 

 

So she recounts her relationship with Finn, highlights all the red flags. She doesn’t cry, a plaintive numbness settles instead. When she talks about that night she can’t look at Hunter anymore. Her eyes find the wall as she explains the length of the knife, how Bayley saved her, how she thought Bayley was dead. She tells him about the hospital room, how she kissed Bayley but she pushed her away. All she wants is to be able to live with it, to breathe easier through the moments that she remembers his eyes or his favorite song comes on.

 

He tells her the truthful answer, but not necessarily the one she wants to hear. Time is on her side, time will give her what she needs to process it, to grow from it. That it’s not her fault, that lots of women stay in abusive relationships. He tells her statistics for domestic violence that settle her mind a little. He tells her that she has to live her purpose. That she has to learn to find happiness regardless of whether Finn is caught or not. He tells her to look at it from Bayley’s perspective, try to understand where she’s coming from. He asks her if the friendship is more important than the possibility of romance, her only answer is “of course”. His tries for restored balance are not Bayley’s arms holding her at night, protecting her from the evils of the world, but they do well in keeping her breathing normal, settle something that a kiss couldn’t.

 

—-

 

Bayley is doing her best. She’s really trying to not look at the healing wound on her arm. Trying not to think about Sasha’s lips. She’s trying to focus on the brightness slowly returning to Sasha’s eyes, the receding bags under her eyes. But it’s hard. Hard because Finn is still out there, because her students haven’t stopped asking about the cut along her arm, because Sasha is still hurting.

 

She gets a phone call from a detective while Sasha is at her therapy session. He says that they aren’t giving up. That Finn hasn’t shown up to work since the altercation. His house either. But they have cops monitoring his neighborhood at all times. 

 

“We’ll find him” he says.

 

But Bayley isn’t sure she believes him.

 

When Sasha comes home, Bayley doesn’t tell her about the phone call. Doesn’t want to remind her of everything again, or the thought of him coming back. She doesn’t want Sasha to see how scared she is too. 

 

——

 

That night Sasha finds herself looking at Bayley differently. Seeing the valiant nature of her shoulders, tries her best to find the love that weighs her down, tries to see how Bayley could love her but still keep her at arms length.

 

She really wants to take Hunter’s advice. To walk a while in Bayley’s shoes, as hard as that can be. Because she doesn’t want her love to turn into resentment, for the kisses Bayley won’t give her, the “I love you”s that go unsaid. And she still holds her at night, and does everything she can to make sure Sasha is okay, and that isn’t completely lost on her either. She just can’t imagine another person that selfless. Selfless enough to sacrifice the love blooming out of their ears, for the possibility of a slightly better mental state. 

 

Part of her understands. Knows that Bayley is doing the right thing, letting her heal, be a full person on her own, before implementing herself as a necessary limb.

 

But another part, most of the time the overwhelming majority of her, just wants Bayley to love her with everything she has. To kiss her desperately until their breath leaves them both, until Sasha has memorized the taste of her, until there is no doubt that Sasha is loved and important and worthy of living.

 

But Sasha knows it’s too good to be true, tumblr always telling her that no one can complete you but yourself, the world always making reality more clear, the divorce rate skyrocketing. 

 

So she’ll wait. And she’ll do her best to be idle. Her best to get better.

 

——

 

Sasha’s next therapy session starts out a little different. She’s finally garnered the courage to sit still in the waiting room, the anxiety of the situation no longer a seemingly impossible feat to overcome. But she’s usually alone, save for Charlotte, who she’s fallen into easy conversations with that mostly consist of both of them light heartedly making fun of each other until Charlotte pouts and Sasha knows she’s won. Charlotte's laugh has become a welcome comfort upon coming in to the office.

 

But there’s a girl sat across from her. A woman who’s hair is orange. Sasha has half a mind to judge the outrageous color before she remembers that her own hair was formerly bright purple. Still that’s not the first thing she notices about the stranger. It’s the way she’s insistently tapping her foot, followed by the firm scowl on her face. A first timer, Sasha is sure.

 

The desire to comfort the stranger comes unexpectedly. This whole, having a heart in public thing, is still sort of new to her. She isn’t totally unaware that a few weeks ago that she was in the same position, that she wouldn’t want someone to impede into her mind, but also that Charlotte’s unprompted reassurance was one of the reasons she came back. And Sasha knows everyone’s unique and therapy isn’t for everyone, but if by chance it might ease the smallest bit of anxiety in this girl to break her concentration from the wretched possibilities than it’s worth it.

 

“It’s not that bad, ya know” Sasha finds herself saying after the stranger has taken her 5th deep breath in the last minute.

 

The tapping of her foot momentarily halts, like a wave of energy pushed away as she realized the voice was being directed at her. 

 

“Mind your business, lady” comes her voice back.

 

The Irish accent takes Sasha by surprise but the misplaced disappointment comes from the addressing as “lady.” Weird.

 

But Sasha is stubborn to a fault. 

 

“I was just trying to be helpful. No ones going to make you say anything you don’t want. They aren’t going to force you to come back. And you might actually feel a little better when you leave.” Sasha tries again, walking the fine line of comforting and fighting. 

 

Charlotte peaks over the counter at the sound of Sasha’s heightened voice, the position of a friend ready to defend if needed. 

 

But the orange haired girl takes a heavy breath once more, releases the tension in her shoulders as the guise of rough exterior melts away.

 

“Sorry,” she starts, “I’ve never done this before.”

 

Sasha nods like she understands, thinking that’s the end of it. 

 

“Thank you”, comes the accented voice again, “Becky” the woman introduces herself stands to close the distance between them to offer Sasha her hand to shake.

 

Sasha can’t help but remember the day she met Bayley, how Bayley has similarly offered her hand to her, how she’s slammed her door in her face. She can’t help but ponder how being a part of Bayley’s life has made her simply more open, to people and experiences, and empathy, and not being afraid of rejection, or doing something regardless of the consequences.

 

So Sasha shakes Becky’s hand.

 

“Sasha”

 

She sees the smile reach Charlotte’s eyes at the interaction from the corner of her eyes. She doesn’t forget to send an extra eye roll her way before she leaves. Charlotte can’t know she’s going soft.

 

—-

 

The next time Sasha sees Becky is next week in Hunter’s office. But she doesn’t have the same closed off demeanor or intimidating face. Instead Sasha hears her accent the moment she opens the door, it’s a thundering chorus that Sasha can tell is only half serious directed at Charlotte. It’s almost funny actually as Becky whines and Charlotte continues to seem unaffected.

 

Upon further listening Sasha understands what they’re talking about: Hunter’s going vacation next week meaning he won’t be seeing any patients.

 

Becky isn’t exactly happy about that.

 

“He really has to go?” Becky cries out like she’s shipping off her husband to war.

 

“He deserves vacations like everybody else don’t you think?” Charlotte phrases even though it isn’t really a question. 

 

“ _ He deserves vacations like everybody else don’t you think,”  _ Becky repeats in pretty accurate mockery of Charlotte's tone.

 

“You’ve only been to two sessions, I don’t think a week off is going to kill you,” Charlotte asserts, this time with clear emotion, a face of unnecessary annoyance.

 

Sasha sees a glint of something change in Becky’s eyes then, a shift to delight maybe, that she received some sort of emotion from Charlotte.

 

She wants to voice “you guys are cute”, but pushes against it saying “you guys are too much” instead.

 

——

 

On her walk home from her session, Sasha’s phone starts to blow up with text messages from an unknown number.

 

_ Hey _

 

_ It’s Becky _

 

_ From therapy _

 

_ Charlotte gave me ur number from your file _

 

_ But like I begged a lot….so like can u like not get her fired _

 

_ Do you wanna get coffeee? _

 

If anything Sasha reads them as Becky being a little too eager, but still, she wouldn’t mind actually making good friends. The small interactions she’s had with both Becky and Charlotte so far have made her...happy? Made her feel like maybe she wasn’t a basket case, maybe she deserved to be able to trust people, to care about more than one person at a time. Because like she’s contemplated before, it isn’t fair to drown Bayley in her all encompassing complexities, she’s more than enough to share. 

 

Bayley will always have her heart, but her hands weigh too heavy to not be a person who lends them. So she finds herself texting Bayley that she’ll be out a little longer, not to worry. 

 

_ Just meeting up with a friend _

 

A bubble of insecurity pops up in her throat, the fear that still permeates when waiting for a reaction. She realizes it’s been programmed in her through Finn, it’s something she’ll have to work through. She tries to breathe. Tries to remember that Bayley is nothing like him. The stale anxiety is wasted when she isn’t met with jealousy. Bayley texts her back. It’s a smiley face.

 

She texts Becky with the same intense fervor.

 

_ Sure! Where u wanna go?? _

 

——

 

Meeting up for coffee isn’t as awkward as Sasha thinks it will be. She invites Becky to Tony’s because it’s only the coffee place she can tolerate in the general area. It isn’t too gawky or over the top, and the roasts aren’t burnt or too rich. Plus she gets her employee discount. 

 

Becky seems cool. A lot bottled into one human. She comes off as harsh and stoic, but behind the curtain is a sense of sarcasm and wit that has Sasha smiling more times then she’d like to admit.

 

And it gets deep for a while too; when Becky tells her about her love for wrestling, how she injured her shoulder and neck, how she might never compete again, how she’s seeing Hunter because of it.

 

Sasha has an easier time showing empathy now that Bayley is in her life. But she still doesn’t have the same talent for finding the right answer as the brunette so innately possesses. But Becky doesn’t seem like she needs or wants Sasha to do anything other than listen. 

 

So she does.

 

And Becky asks her about her bullshit too.

 

And Becky seems well-intentioned and genuinely curious, but Sasha can’t bring herself to fully explain.

 

“Recent domestic violence coupled with the life long insecurities that came with not having a dad”

 

Becky seems clearly saddened to hear it, before her face morphs into something of pity and a pained smirk.

 

“I guess those two kinda go together,” she breathes into the air, hoping Sasha sees her intention holds no malice.

 

But Sasha lets out a soft chuckle too, “I guess they kinda do.”

 

When Becky offers to walk her home, Sasha stops in her tracks.

 

“Wait. This wasn’t a date, right?” She asks hoping Becky isn’t offended, but wanting to set the record  _ straight _ .

 

“Oh, no!” Becky rushes out in an attempt to clear the slate, “not at all! I just wanted to thank you. For uh tryna calm me down that first day,” she offers, prompting Sasha to smile.

 

But she doesn’t want to start on the wrong foot of miscommunication either. “And it’s nothing against you. I just. There’s someone else” Sasha reveals, halting her own heart, because talking about Bayley out loud even without saying her name, makes it more real. 

 

She’s forced to confront the feeling in her head in an instant; that she’d wait for Bayley to be ready for her, she’d wait forever to be healthy, keep trying and trying if it meant Bayley could be hers.

 

The moment Sasha takes to process silently leaves Becky looking sheepish, before she speaks again.

 

“Me too. Um. Do you think Charlotte’s single?” The orange hairs on her neck stand up and her hand comes up to rub at them.

 

“Definitely”, Sasha smiles.

 

“I knew it!,” Becky pushes up on her toes in celebration, “she’s too uptight for anybody to be hitting it right,” the Irish accent coupled with the American slang, pushes a laugh out of Sasha that she hasn’t been able to conjure for weeks. 

 

——

 

Bayley is trying. Really trying. There’s so much to be happy and hopeful for. That Sasha is seeming more stable everyday. That she tells her about how gratifying it is to let it out to a third party. That she seems to be making friends. That her arm is healing well, and the stitches can be taken out soon. 

 

But the fact that he’s still out there keeps her up at night.

 

So relief momentarily washes over her everytime a detective calls her, hoping they have good news. But she’s grown tired of getting her hopes up. Knows by now that it’s just an update on information. Usually that there’s still been no sight of him, that they can’t trace his purchases because he hasn’t bought anything on a credit card since the altercation. That they think he stole a car. That they don’t know exactly where he is, but they’re getting “closer every day”. It only makes the fear worse.

 

So when she gets a call while Sasha isn’t home from a Detective, she doesn’t let her heartbeat jump too fast as she listens for the trivial information to be read off. 

 

But the list of updates doesn’t come.

 

The voice asks to verify Bayley’s identity. She tells him her full name. 

 

There’s a moment of stagnant breath before the voice speaks again.

 

_ “We found him” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is the longest it’s taken me to update...but like the chapter is a little longer than usual right????


	15. Prisoner

pris·on·er

/ˈpriz(ə)nər/

noun

1.a person legally held in prison as a punishment for crimes they have committed or while awaiting trial.

 

2.a person who is or feels confined or trapped by a situation or set of circumstances.

 

——

 

Sasha is acutely aware of two things while walking in Bayley’s front door that night: the high of new friendship still coursing through her, and the intense air shift stepping through the threshold of the door, it’s heavy, it’s unwanted. 

 

The first thing she can latch herself onto is Bayley; sat at the kitchen island, her hand wrapped around a bottle Sasha can’t exactly make out. 

 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Sasha asks when Bayley isn’t prompted to move or speak by her new arrival, upon getting closer Sasha can make out the bottle of whiskey in Bayley’s hand; unopened. She holds it like she’s questioning it, wondering if it’s worth it to hold her resolve. 

 

Bayley doesn’t answer her question directly, moves the bottle into her other hand as if to contemplate it from a new perspective. Sasha comes to stand next to her, but doesn’t instigate any physical contact, afraid it might change the tone to something volatile.

 

“I never told you, but I was a pretty heavy drinker in my freshman year of college. I was just so sad and hopeless.” Her voice breaks here, her first show of genuine emotion, Sasha doesn’t know what to do other than let her continue.

 

“And I got help. And I’ve been sober for years. But I broke it a while ago when we weren’t talking and I was giving you space. I keep this bottle in the back of a cabinet just in case, I’m just afraid to fully let go” she says squeezing the glass in her hand. Sasha knows Bayley isn’t blaming her, just explaining.

 

The next sound Sasha hears is the bottle hitting the counter, a pop loud enough to shock her, but not enough to break the glass. Bayley puts it down like she never wants to touch it again, stands to get away from it.

 

Sasha sees that she is crying now, but still doesn’t move to touch the brunette.

 

“But I don’t want to make this about me. And I don’t want us to have to keep putting each other back together. That’s not what you deserve” Bayley finally looks at Sasha then, hoping she sees the truth of it shine in her eyes.

 

Sasha finally approaches, but still doesn’t touch her, wants to know first what prompted this outburst, and she doesn’t know what to say other than, “what happened?”

 

“They have him, Sash. They found Finn”

 

And suddenly in a rush, Sasha understands Bayley’s breakdown, this new charge to want to be better. She finds herself simultaneously launching forward and crumbling to the ground. 

 

And of course Bayley moves to catch her, holding up all of Sasha’s weight, until she has to crumble too, until her knees give out and they resort to holding each other on the floor, as they morph into a mess of unyielding tears, Sasha’s hair in Bayley’s mouth, limbs that cross and bend interchangeably. 

 

Bayley is saying “sorry” into Sasha’s shoulder, but Sasha doesn’t want her to feel like anything is her fault because it isn’t. Still, she lets Bayley have this moment, it’s too complicated to fight. Because the emotions are too entangled right now: the devotion and adoration she holds for the woman in her arms, the relief that settles in her heart that he isn’t out there, the anxiety for what comes next, the goodbye she has to give to the person she used to be. 

 

So she holds Bayley tighter and hopes she knows that there’s nothing to be sorry for. 

 

But there’s an abrupt snap in Sasha’s mind where she’s pulling away and pushing to her feet too quickly for Bayley to pull her back in. She wipes her own tears away, sealing herself in the present. 

 

“Did they tell you where they were holding him?” Sasha questions like it’s the simplest question in the world. Bayley pushes herself up to stand as well, holding the information that Sasha wants, but not knowing what to do with it. She trusts Sasha though, knows that she is strong enough to have that pain.

 

So she tells her.

 

She doesn’t expect for Sasha to grab Bayley’s car keys. 

 

Bayley’s car rarely gets used. She drove in from California, but she seldom needs it to commute in the city, so it sits in a parking garage for most, if not all, of the time. But Finn is being held a significant distance away, too far to take the subway. 

 

Bayley doesn’t question her, committed to follow  Sasha anywhere and everywhere a long time ago. When they exit the apartment, Sasha doesn’t have to turn back to know Bayley is there.

 

The short walk to the parking garage leaves enough time for Sasha to start shaking, for reality to set in, for Bayley to take notice.

 

When they approach the vehicle, Sasha fumbles to unlock it. Bayley presses her palm to Sasha’s back then, a soothing warning before she takes the keys out of Sasha’s hands. 

 

Bayley’s nerves are slightly more steady, allow her to unlock the car, make sure Sasha isn’t spiraling, has her seat belt on before she pulls out of the spot.

 

The drive is silent for a while, before Bayley sees the lack of focus in Sasha’s eyes. 

 

“You okay?” Bayley asks knowing that the answer isn’t going to be what she wants to hear, because she knows “yes” means Sasha is lying to her, but “no” means she’s not okay.

 

Sasha knows the implications of the answer too, settles instead for words that aren’t concrete, “I just need to see him.”

 

And Bayley can understand that, knows that saying Finn is in custody, and knowing that he is are two different things, the latter being beyond settling, the former making her skeptical that it’s real.

 

It takes a little over an hour to get to their destination, but Bayley is happy to aid in Sasha’s healing process in any way that she can. 

 

The officer at the front desk is beyond weary of their intentions when they bluntly ask to see Finn. He orders them a hostile line of “precinct policy” in: “if you’re not posting bail for an individual you are not authorized to see them”

 

And Bayley can understand policy, has always been a rule follower herself, but Sasha is sobbing, probably putting way too much pressure on this one thing in her mind, and Bayley can’t watch her suffer anymore.

 

So she walks Sasha to a bench outside, tells her to wait there, promises that she’ll call her when she’s ready.

 

And Bayley heads back into the precinct, tells the officer about the altercations, tells him about everything Finn put Sasha through, that she just wants to confirm with her own eyes that it’s over, hoping that maybe it’ll pull just enough at his heart strings, stir his empathy enough to let Sasha see him, even for just a second. 

 

Bayley calls Sasha as promised, tells her to come back in. 

 

The officer lets them in toward the holding cells. Bayley lets go of Sasha’s hand as they approach steel bars, knowing she’d walk through fire with Sasha, but also knowing this is something Sasha has to do on her own.

 

All the inmates are asleep as Sasha walks through the hallway of the holding cells. The officer nods toward a particular cell, and Sasha braces herself.

 

There lies Finn, caged in, bars keeping him from continued rampage, laid out on a metal bed, his facial hair grown out, his face greasy, a morphed version of the face Sasha knew but she feels settled in his static. As he lays behind bars, Sasha finally feels free.

 

—-

 

Driving home is a lot different, a new charge of energy. Sasha on a high of adrenaline and unexpected serotonin, and Bayley is letting her soak it up.

 

The radio is on, maybe a little too loud, but it’s keeping them both awake, as mostly Sasha sings along obnoxiously making Bayley laugh and join in. 

 

It’s a moment of pure elation, reminds Bayley of the first few weeks of their friendship when they were playing Mario kart and feeling uninhibited, and like nothing could go wrong in a time of friendship and joy. And both of them want to stay here forever in a space of renewed happiness. The thought flashes in Bayley’s mind suddenly that maybe things can be normal again.

 

But by the time Bayley pulls back into the parking garage the sun is starting to show itself again and Sasha's simulated high has petered off into a phase of quiet contemplation. 

 

Bayley puts the car in park, but no one moves to get out of the car, too afraid to break the seal, to instigate new space between them, to end the purity of whatever this was, to face the chance of it going back to being sullen and dark.

 

And suddenly Sasha doesn’t feel so free anymore.

 

“Sorry,” pushes itself out of her mouth before she can make herself move forward; a pre-apology for the sabotage she’s willing to elect for them.

 

She pushes herself out of her seat then, but not out of the car, instead forcing herself over the center console to straddle Bayley’s lap. 

 

And Bayley isn’t sure this is a good idea, but she can’t stop Sasha either, wants to give in to whatever Sasha needs right now.

 

So Sasha kisses her and Bayley lets her, but it isn’t like the first time. 

 

Because Sasha isn’t crying, and Bayley isn’t almost dead, but Sasha is still holding onto her like she’s afraid she might disappear. And Bayley kisses back, too afraid that if she waits any longer, she won’t be able to live with herself. 

 

There’s a passion that drives them forward as Sasha continues to be dominant and Bayley is happy to submit to the pressure as Sasha buries her hands into Bayley’s hair and Bayley presses her palms harshly into Sasha’s hips. 

 

Their position sort of reminds Bayley of the scene in Fifty Shades of Grey, where Anastasia decides its a good time to fuck in a car in broad day light right after slimly escaping a high speed chase from an unknown SUV. But they’re not having sex, somehow it feels more intimate.

 

Like Sasha is communicating everything she’s not been able to say with words, like Bayley is finally letting the insecurity go. 

 

But the lapse in control doesn’t change anything. When Sasha finally pulls back and sees the look in Bayley’s eyes, she knows they still haven’t cemented a future, knows that Bayley let her have a moment of victory, but still thinks Sasha needs more time to heal. And Sasha knows she’s right.

 

They let the air carry their differences as Sasha opens the driver’s door and pushes off of Bayley and out of the car, tries not to look at her.

 

Bayley doesn’t speak, lets Sasha assume what she wants, and for once Sasha isn’t assuming the worst: a new feeling since Finn. She knows she has to keep trying until she’s broken the part of her brain that waits to be traumatized, that prepares for worst case scenario regardless of logic. It’s exhausting.

 

And most of the time Bayley will clear the air, make Sasha feel like maybe silver linings exist, but Bayley lets the silence surround them as they walk back to the apartment, lets Sasha feel the weight of her actions without needing words to reassure her.

 

—-

 

When they make it to their floor, Sasha’s heart springboards into her throat, a new thought needing to be explored. She figures the current track record for things working out is on the up, so she might as well continue the streak.

 

So when she turns to enter her apartment instead of Bayley’s, the moment of gloom in Bayley’s eyes takes her by surprise.

 

But she remembers Hunter’s words about communication, especially with Bayley.

 

“You know I’m not mad at you, right?” Bayley asks when Sasha pauses in front of her door. 

 

“I know,” Sasha rushes, “I just think it’s time I face it” seemingly unclear, preparing herself to continue to explain.

 

But Bayley understands easily, that something about Finn being behind bars frees Sasha from her own chains, gives her the push she needs to walk through her door, let her brain revisit the turmoil without fear of completely falling apart.

 

So, she takes the spare key from under the doormat, breathes deeply, and walks through the door.

 

She lets herself in, hoping that he won’t ever be out. A prison all her own in the doors she couldn’t cross, the home she couldn’t have. Because Bayley’s bed is warm and smells of her cucumber shampoo, but she misses the comfort of her own space, her own truth, an air that only smells of her, a brush still coated in a mix of purple and black hair, a shower with the shampoo she prefers.

 

And it’s a flurry of too much at first, but she breathes through it knowing that Bayley is right behind her. Sasha looks at her, tries to speak without words. 

 

Sasha laughs then. A crack in her sullen resolve for the exhaustion in her heart. Because it’s funny how Finn had such an effect on her, kept her out of her own home, afraid to open a door when he was miles away. Because she’s a different person now, someone who won’t fall victim as easily, who knows her worth, who knows the type of person she deserves to come home to. 

 

And Sasha wasn’t sure before, but she is now, that she wants to close this chapter, start a new one, with better words and brighter colors.

 

“Can we just get rid of anything in this apartment that reminds me of him?” Sasha asks like it's the craziest idea she’s ever had, but Bayley thinks it's one of the smartest.

 

So the purge begins. Bayley breaks out trash bags and Sasha ties her hair up to keep it out of her face. They start in the bedroom, dedicating a bag to goodwill, filling it with all the oversized t-shirts and hoodies that smell of him, his joggers and high school baseball caps. Bayley moves to the bathroom soon after, getting rid of his deodorant and cologne, throwing away his razor blade and spare toothbrush. 

 

Sasha sets aside two rings and three necklaces he gave her to sell at a later date. She gets rid of the sweater he bought her last christmas and the picture he framed of them on the wall. She pulls down the polaroids taped to her wall, both the ones with him in it, and the ones she remembers him taking. 

 

It feels like a juice cleanse coupled with a face mask. And at the end of it, the exhaustion sets in like waves rolling onto shore. Bayley and Sasha fall together and then into bed, Sasha’s bed for the first time in weeks (without pillows after Sasha realizes Finn bought them too).

 

Bayley laughs when Sasha gruffs at the sudden lack of neck support.

 

“C’mere”, Bayley offers her chest for Sasha to rest her head and Sasha gladly takes it, pressing her nose into her neck, pulling her close.

 

“Do you think this was stupid?” Sasha asks when she finally gets comfortable.

 

“What? Getting rid of all his stuff?” 

 

“Yeah, I mean, someone truly over it wouldn’t have to throw out all his stuff.” she tries to instigate eye contact in their new position, “someone truly over it would have pillows” she complains again.

  


“This is better anyway” Bayley tries to concede her, pulling her in tighter, before fighting the bigger problem, Sasha’s ever-changing level of insecurity, “besides everyone heals differently, and pillows are overrated”

 

The air changes when Bayley pulls away from the kiss she places on Sasha’s forehead.

 

“You’re the strongest person I know. If this helps the slightest bit, it was worth it to be stupid for a while” 

 

The way Sasha’s brain lights up so readily at Bayley’s encouragement makes her want to push away, the satiated grievance something she doesn’t experience often, but she stays in Bayley’s arms, tries to drown herself in the sunshine instead of being afraid of it.

 

“Ew, you’re cheesy,” Sasha still finds herself saying, “I don't know if I like you anymore” 

 

But it’s been a long time since the first time Sasha joked liked this, when Bayley was still getting use to her sense of humor. Bayley laughs at more than the joke, she laughs because she knows the truth, knows Sasha wouldn’t ever let go of her again if she didn’t have to, knows the ability to make a joke only means there’s more freedom.

 

And freedom is her ticket, knows it will pull her out of all of this. Sasha only wants to be handcuffed to Bayley, a welcome companion in the prison her brain can be. But jaildoors aren’t her world anymore, only white wings and open skies. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went to NYC pride and Sonya was there... so we sort of maybe were in the same general area... so thats dope
> 
> i never mentioned to ya'll but my dog's name is Bailey and that like really fucks me up... like before i started writing this fic it was chill, but now i be typing Bayley 100 times a day., and then im spelling my dog's name wrong...and i just...its ruining my life lowkey
> 
> ALSO FYI PSA hellllooo IN this Fan fiction Bayleys hair is NOT in a pony tail unless i say otherwise...AND have i ever said otherwise NOO


	16. Trial

tri·al

/ˈtrī(ə)l/

noun

 

1.a formal examination of evidence before a judge, and typically before a jury, in order to decide guilt in a case of criminal or civil proceedings.

 

2.a person, thing, or situation that tests a person's endurance or forbearance.

 

——

 

_Finn Bálor v. The state of New York_

 

The phrase rings heavy in Sasha’s ears long after she reads the subpoena to court in the coming days for his trial. 

 

Bayley has a matching envelope with her name on it. 

 

It’s haunting, because his name seems so villainous in a way it hasn’t before, when she had been contemplating taking his last name, or saying it everyday for the rest of her life. It’s haunting because she had sort of forgotten about this part, forgotten that maybe the court would need witnesses, _victims,_ to testify against him. Sasha doesn’t want to see him ever again, but she’ll swallow her pride to make sure he stays behind bars, make sure that he can never do what he did to her to anyone else. Ever again.

 

—-

 

Sasha and Bayley are there for all of it, sitting in the back of the courtroom as Finn comes out and sits next to his lawyers, clad in an orange jumpsuit and handcuffs. He looks worse than when they last saw him, a glaze of something menacing in his eyes.

 

They listen to both sides give opening statements, evidence be presented. Sasha tries to drown most of it out, pretend they aren’t talking about her, about Bayley, pretend that she’s watching a courtroom drama, remove herself so completely to see how she would rule his case without any emotional attachment.

 

Bayley immerses herself differently, wants every detail to permeate her brain, wants to know that they said everything they could, did everything they could to keep him off the street. 

 

When they call Sasha up to the stand Finn perks up at the sound of her name as if he was unaware that she was here. The expression on his face is a cross between pleasant surprise and suffocating fear. Like he didn’t think he’d ever see her again, like he didn’t think she had the guts to show up, like he’s now sure he’s spending a long time in prison. As if the physical evidence of Bayley’s blood and pictures of the stab wound weren’t enough.

 

But Sasha doesn’t look at him. She waits patiently for the State attorney’s questions.

 

“What was your relationship to the defendant, Mr. Balór?”

 

“He was my boyfriend of almost 3 years.”

 

“And could you describe your relationship with him to the court?”

 

Sasha didn’t want to cry, knows it’s two early for that, knows she has to be strong. She finds Bayley’s eyes in the back of the room, settles there for a moment until she can speak again, pretends that it’s just the two of them in Sasha’s room, pretends like it’s the first time Bayley questioned Finn’s behavior, like she’s explaining everything like she should have, so that maybe they wouldn’t be in a courtroom now, maybe none of this would’ve happened if she didn’t try so hard to defend him then. 

 

“It was like dating two people,” she starts, “half the time he was someone who seemed perfect, smart, funny, outgoing, but when we were alone he became someone else, violent, angry, unpredictable”

 

“Violent how?”

 

“When we’d fight it wasn’t normal couple fighting, he’d force me up against a wall and scream into my face, hold me so hard until my skin would bruise, he broke all my dishes…” she trails off then feeling sort of empty, like maybe the things she’d listed weren’t all that bad.

 

“On the night in question, Mr. Bálor broke into your apartment?” He asks incredulously as if they hadn’t already presented the photos of Sasha’s front door: the wood split open from obvious brute force, the door knob hanging off.

 

“Yes”

 

“And he had a knife?”

 

“Yes”

 

“What do you think Mr. Balór intended to do with the knife?”

 

Sasha is sort of lost in the words for a moment, as she lets the question reel in her brain.

 

She drowns out the sound of Finn’s lawyer’s motion to object, and the judges call of “sustained.”

 

“I think he wanted to kill me”

 

Sasha looks into Finn’s eyes for the first time that day, hoping to see something telling in his features, she expects remorse, wants him to say different, that he’d never contemplate taking her life, but he only seems resigned, seems content in Sasha revealing the truth.

 

“No further questions”

 

And Sasha is grateful. Feels like she’d lost her breath the second she sat down next to the judge, finally feels like she’s getting it back. All she wants is to feel Bayley’s hand in hers, to reassure her that everything will be okay, that this is real.

 

And the defense attorney decides it’s not a good idea to question Sasha, too many emotions tied in. Afraid she might reveal something that hurts Finn’s chances of freedom more than it helps him. 

 

But Bayley gets called up directly after, leaving Bayley no time to hold her, to comfort her. Sasha has to live with the brief contact of Bayley stroking the back of her hand as they pass.

 

The state attorney moves to question Bayley after she’s sworn in, starting with a string of questions that simply set the scene.

 

“How do you know the defendant?”

 

“Sash-,” she cuts herself off, following it with a resigned sigh, “Ms. Banks is my neighbor,” she answers pointedly.

 

“And do you consider yourself friends with Ms. Banks?”

 

“Yes”

 

Finn snarls then, a laugh at how untrue that statement is, and yes, Bayley and Sasha are more than friends, regardless of their lack of concrete definition, but that seems like something trivial to a court of law, especially when Bayley had never made a move while Finn was still in the picture. But the state attorney chooses to ignore Finn’s unnecessary outburst.

 

“Can you tell me what happened after Mr. Balór broke into Ms. Bank’s apartment?”

 

“I heard the commotion and tried to make sure Sasha was safe,” she says, this time not caring about the formality of it.

 

“What did you see when you entered Ms. Bank’s apartment?”

 

“Finn was holding Sasha down on her bed, she was trying to escape him, his pants were undone” Bayley tries to list things off without pushing too much, she doesn’t want to lose her composure.

 

“And did you get involved?”

 

“I pulled Sasha away from him, tried to get in between them, he tried to get me out of the way and then he pulled out the knife”

 

“Was he coming toward you with the knife?”

 

Bayley can barely speak then, shaking her head to indicate no as she swallows again hoping her voice doesn’t come out cracked.

 

“Sasha” 

 

“So Mr. Balór swung the knife at Ms. Banks but you got in the way?”

 

“Yes”

 

“And Mr. Balór cut you?”

 

“Yes”

 

Bayley thinks it’s over then, that they just needed that, for her to clarify that this did indeed happen, she didn’t think they’d ask her to identify a bloody picture of her arm as her own, didn’t think Finn would be smiling in a moment like this. She didn’t think Finn’s attorney would question her either.

 

“Ms. Martinez,” he starts and Bayley can already tell this isn’t going to be good.

 

“Is it true that you have a romantic relationship with Ms. Banks?”

 

Bayley is glad for the immediate “I object” that comes out of the state attorney’s mouth “regardless of the answer, it doesn’t erase the fact that the defendant stabbed her” he adds, seemingly enraged at the continuance of this game, the evidence should stand alone without playing to the possibility of cheating.

 

And Bayley sits there still as the Judge agrees and doesn’t allow to continue the same line of questions, and Bayley is stuck wondering how she would have answered. 

 

_Is it true that you have a romantic relationship with Ms. Banks?_

 

The words repeat in her head more than once, a pulse of insecurity, as Finn’s attorney decides whether to dismiss Bayley or not.

 

“No further questions”

 

——

 

When the judge orders the court into recess until tomorrow, Sasha is conflicted. On one hand she’s happy to walk outside, stretch out the hand that’s been harshly folded into Bayley’s, remove herself from the dense air. But at the same time, she wants this to be over with, the sooner the better. 

 

So when she finds a text from Becky while they’re walking out of the courthouse she asks Bayley wholeheartedly what she wants to do. Because it would be easy to wallow in the puddle of doubt until tomorrow, but maybe it’ll be good to bring two of Sasha’s worlds together, maybe Bayley meeting Becky for the first time is lighthearted enough to change the course of her brain for just a little while. 

 

Bayley sees the hope in Sasha’s eyes, knows the last thing she needs right now is to sit alone in her apartment. So she agrees.

 

Becky meets them in a small Italian restaurant not far from their apartment building. Becky is a lot warmer now with Sasha, pulls her into a hug upon seeing her, takes note of the harsh lines of despair on her face, holds her by the shoulders for a moment as they pull out of the embrace, a silent look of “are you okay?” That Sasha nods to, a simple “I’ll explain later”

 

Sasha is kind of afraid for Becky to meet Bayley. She knows they’re both good people who have her best interest in mind, but she doesn’t know how they’ll get along. She thinks back to how Bayley and Finn we’re together, how Bayley seemed to mold around the things he lacked, support the weak areas of their connection. The fear melts away when Becky moves to greet Bayley, her only worry now being the incessant teasing she’s sure will come from Becky about her “girlfriend”.

 

Becky goes to shake Bayley’s hand, an easy welcoming gesture for someone new, but Bayley is pulling her into a hug and Becky seems to be accepting it easily. “I’ve heard a lot about you,” Becky mentions winking at Sasha. Sasha isn’t made uncomfortable, just blushes at the effortless camaraderie. Bayley laughs for the first time that day.

 

The conversation over their dinner comes without a forceful push. They leave heavy motions out of the way. Becky and Bayley talk and Sasha doesn’t feel excluded. It’s a simple harmony between three, that has all of them smiling more than usual. Becky talks about growing up in Ireland, and they laugh together at Becky’s idea of high school rebellion. 

 

Sasha and Becky explain how they met, the original dynamic of fire and disdain, the story is funny in hindsight, how Becky seemed like a rabid Rottweiler, but is more like a chihuahua.

 

Sasha finds herself getting lost in the simplicity, the friendship that comes and stays without her having to wedge anything up against a wall. The way she isn’t inundated with reminders of the ugly in her life. For a while it’s just her, and two people she cares about, just being.  

 

When they finish their food and have fought over who’s paying the bill (Becky wins that argument after a few harsh but empty threats), they collectively decide that the conversation, whatever they’ve glued together in a moment of sincerity, isn’t over just yet. 

 

So Becky invites them back to her apartment. 

 

The walk there makes Sasha feel 15 when she would walk home from school with her friends, a practiced joy in another day of school over with, the simplicity of being yourself. Sasha jumps on Bayley’s back as they march onward.

 

Becky makes a comment about Sasha being a princess and Bayley being her loyal horse. Sasha finds an easy comeback in taunting Becky with “don’t act like Princess Becky wouldn’t _love_ to ride Charlotte.” 

 

The words prompt Sasha to laugh, Becky’s cheeks to match her hair, and Bayley’s confusion.

 

“Who’s Charlotte?” Bayley asks feeling like she’s not intruding, like they weren’t trying to exclude her.

 

“ _Someone,”_ Sasha starts again, pretending like they all aren’t aware of who _someone_ is, “has a little crush on our therapist’s desk secretary”

 

Becky grumbles jokingly, “it’s not a crush, it’s true love,” she corrects her voice coming to a higher pitch as she presses the back of her hand to her forehead and lifts one foot off the ground behind her, effectively making herself look like a damsel in distress. 

 

Sasha only smiles at the goll of it, happy to see Becky like this.

 

Becky’s roommate, Seth, isn’t home when they get there, but Sasha can smell the musky man scent as they walk in the door. A harsh burst of smell she hasn’t been privy to since the last time Finn held her in her sleep. The tension in her brain dissipates when she remembers where she is, who she’s with. She wills herself to breathe through her mouth until the smell of cologne and musk isn’t as blinding.

 

Becky invites them onto her balcony. The space is small but there’s enough space for Bayley and Sasha to sit on the small bench swing, and Becky to make a home of the armchair sitting a few feet away. 

 

The warm June glow settles any tension easily as they listen in on the traffic and bustle below. Becky lights some candles on the bars surrounding the balcony, a calm light that surrounds them as the sun starts to go down. 

 

It’s here that Sasha finally feels comfortable to explain. And she does so without prompting. Becky doesn’t try to stop her, lets the younger girl let loose all the things that have troubled her.

 

So Sasha tells her about Finn, about the trial, about everything. And Becky listens like she has no where better to be. Bayley is quiet too, holds Sasha's hand as she puts on a brave face, strings the proceedings along like she’d studied it in a book and not lived through it herself. 

 

When Becky is all caught up, she waits for the silence to overtake them for a moment, waits for the candles to ebb once more before she moves to stand, to hug Sasha, to tell her “it’s okay. I’m so happy you’re okay”

 

And it makes Sasha think about being “okay”, how she probably wouldn’t be here, period, if it wasn’t for people like Bayley, like Becky, who keep her from the edge, who make her feel human enough in small bursts, to keep her wanting to try.

 

When the dust settles, Becky sits down again. Sasha leans into Bayley touch as she lets her intertwine their fingers, settles her head on the taller woman’s shoulder.

 

Becky looks quizzical for a moment, an epiphany of sorts that leaves Sasha more than curious. “What?” She asks when Becky doesn’t move to speak.

 

“Is Finn Irish by any chance?” The words seeming to come out in a thicker accent than usual.

 

“Yeah” Bayley answers when Sasha takes too long.

 

“Is his last name Balór?” Becky questions again.

 

Sasha’s eyes widen in the form of Becky’s answer.

 

Becky chuckles then, “we went to high school together”

 

“Really?” Sasha asks behind an unsure smile, because it sort of feels like when you run into your Mom’s old friend at the supermarket, but also like a reminder that a serial killer is human too. 

 

“Yeah” Becky starts off, seemingly trying to remember her days back home, her face freshly coated in a layer of nostalgia, “he was a little older than me, he used to shove kids in lockers and trip freshman in the hallway”

 

“Wow, and look at him now” Bayley voices, sending all three of them into a laugh, if only for the uncomfortable unseen territory of new circumstances, if only because a laugh is what they need. 

 

When they finally decide to leave, it’s well into the morning and Sasha is half asleep, responding to Becky’s and Bayley’s conversation in hums and soft murmurs.

 

Bayley wakes her up enough to walk the short distance home. Upon leaving Sasha isn’t conscious enough for words but Becky makes sure to hug her. She offers Bayley the same type of embrace after the brunette thanks her genuinely, “thanks for having us over.”

 

“The first of many to come I hope”

 

Sasha walks slowly at first but the distance home isn’t that long and Bayley’s in no rush. She keeps her hand in Sasha’s to keep her steady. 

 

Bayley pulls Sasha into her apartment shortly after, lets her sleepily strip herself to her underwear and loans Sasha the sweater she always likes to wear, even though it’s more Sasha’s than Bayley’s these days.

 

They crawl into bed with ease; the fear that Bayley once had for holding her long gone, and the love and care still very much there. 

 

Sasha falls asleep with the scent of only Bayley on her nose, the safe warmth of her arms around her, the hope that things will work out heavy in her brain. 

 

—-

 

From the time she wakes up to the moment their standing in the court house again, they both have no recollection. It’s as if the newness of the night before cemented itself against the monotony of waking up and getting ready for the day. It feels like yesterday, like cruel deja vu, like the same court proceedings will take place, like Sasha’s heart will drop every time they say his full name, like Bayley might pass out from how hard Sasha is squeezing her hand. 

 

But the jury has reached a verdict, and Sasha is zoning back in. 

 

A desk clerk is standing up front with a large sealed envelope and the judge is asking Finn to stand. The handcuffs clatter against the table as he pushes himself up into a stoic hunched position.

 

The envelope is opened and the man starts to read. Sasha only squeezes Bayley’s hand harder, holds her breath for the sorrow that may come.

 

“In the case of Finn Balór v. The State of New York the court finds the defendant: 

 _Guilty_ of Attempted murder in the first degree

 _Guilty_ of Assault with a deadly weapon

 _Guilty_ of Domestic violence”

 

The courtroom waits for Finn’s reaction, but there is none, no tears of remorse, no fight for a “correction”, no call for a mis-trial, no sting of anything but a man swimming in his guilt. 

 

Sasha’s knows this is not the end of the road for Finn, knows that he won’t be getting out any time soon, but he’ll still have court dates, they’ll still have to decide on the length of his sentence. 

 

But she doesn’t drop to her knees, she doesn’t cry, she doesn’t fall unconscious. 

 

She holds onto Bayley, and she walks out of the courtroom knowing this is the last time she’ll see his face, knowing that she is safe, knowing that she won’t be back to see how long he’ll be sentenced (the district attorney says at least 20 years), she won’t be back to visit him in his jail cell.

 

The world had put her on trial for the last few years, asked her to answer the questions of the universe, to love herself among chaos and the work was finally proven. She doesn’t have to fight against anymore. She has to fight for. For friendships. And love. And living without fear. 

 

When they exit the courthouse, Bayley lifts her off her feet, spins her around in pure glee, like they’ve just won the lottery. “Is it fucked up to celebrate someone going to prison?” Bayley asks around a smile. 

 

Sasha doesn’t know. But she smiles back, comfy in Bayley’s arms.

 

When Becky shows up to Sasha’s apartment a few hours later with a huge smile and a cake that says “FUCK FINN” in blue icing, Sasha can’t help but not care. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk how I feel about this one??? But I kinda hate all of it sometimes so..
> 
> I made a playlist on Spotify for the story if anyone wants to check it out, it’s under the same name as the fic “Can I break down your walls?” So let me know how you feel about that or you have any recommendations that you think would be good additions (@uma I’m not adding I need a Doctor, Eminem is too intense)


	17. Abandon

a·ban·don

/əˈbandən/

 

_verb_

1.cease to support or look after (someone); desert.

 

2.give up completely (a course of action, a practice, or a way of thinking).

 

\----

 

Sasha thinks she sees her father a lot. When she’s walking around town or sitting in a restaurant, a man will pass by and something fleeting with catch her eye, like broad shoulders, dark skin, or big brown eyes, and the air with leave her lungs for a moment of insecurity. A question of possibility. This has been happening for a long time. She’d be getting ice cream after school with her middle school friends and the man behind them in line would catch her eye a moment too long, or she’d be studying in her college library and someone passing swiftly would remind her of his tall stature. And sometimes Bayley would ask, while they were walking late at night through the city, why Sasha had stopped suddenly and seemed to lose her breath. And Sasha would try to answer honestly.

 

“Nothing, I just thought I saw my dad” and she knew how dumb that sounded, because her and Bayley both know he’s dead, but Bayley doesn’t question it, just moves to hold Sasha’s hand in a wave of concern, a desire to protect. 

 

And Sasha knows too, that even if they did cross paths they probably wouldn’t recognize each other. It's been years since she last saw him, or even felt sorry enough for herself to break out old photos. He probably wouldn’t recognize her strength or the burden he created on her shoulders. But her mother always told her that she had her father’s eyes.

 

She tells Hunter about how the police found Finn, walks him through her lapses in judgement, how she made Bayley drive all that way just to see him, cleanse herself of all his belongings, tells every detail she can remember about the trial. 

 

There’s pure encouragement in return. Hunter smiles at the care he’s witnessing Sasha take of herself. Because understanding that Finn is part of her past and cementing him there, only leaves clear air in her future. But Sasha’s never been good at taking compliments. 

 

“Why do you think you don’t accept compliments well?” he asks before pushing to his own inclination.

 

“I don’t believe them” she answers flatly, sighing as Hunter does that therapist thing where he nods, doesn’t respond right away, forces Sasha’s psyche to continue, “I never got them growing up, I was that scraggly little mixed girl who never stayed in one place long enough to ground her feet, the girl who no one knew and no one cared to learn about, not even my own father apparently”.

 

“Do you think if your father had stayed, you’d believe them?” Hunter asks again, hoping maybe the words hit where he wants them to.

 

“It doesn’t fucking matter,” The lights inside Sasha’s stability flicker then, a lone tear finding a path down her cheek, “He didn’t fucking stay”

 

And Sasha knows this is a safe space, knows Hunter is only trying to help, but she hates the way she curses at him, hates the way the words on her own tongue cut her open even now.

 

But Hunter doesn’t seem phased, like this is exactly the response he was looking for, Sasha thinks she sees a small smirk on his lips, before his resolve is solidifying once more.

 

“You’re right, he didn’t stay. You can’t change that. But you can change how you let that define you.”

 

When Sasha walks out of Hunter’s office, there’s Charlotte as always, like Sasha has just won some championship by completing another session of therapy and Charlotte is her number one fan. It pushes forward the new ideal Hunter just set, to let people be proud of her, commend her for walking in the right direction, no matter how slow her pace.

 

\----

 

When Sasha gets home. Bayley is knocking on her door with practiced rhythm, a three note knock that Sasha knows belongs to the brunette. The constant contact, drowning in each other, never feels like drowning. More like an oxygen mask.

 

Opening the door is suffocating in the best way possible, an influx of the person she loves. But Bayley’s got an arm around her back, hiding something from Sasha’s view, a pressure hitting her ribcage as Bayley reveals, “I got you something,” while pulling a small box into Sasha’s view. 

 

Sasha walks back further into her apartment, and Bayley wordlessly follows. They retreat to the couch where Sasha throws Bayley a look that they both know means, “you didn’t have to get me anything”

 

Still Sasha peers at the small box, obviously not a wedding ring box, but she pushes a joke into the air with ease. “Oh Bayley,” she feigns sadness, “you can’t be asking me to marry you. Didn’t I tell you Becky and I were thinking about a summer wedding?”

 

Bayley laughs at Sasha’s borderline offensive sense of humor, as well as the prospect of Becky and Sasha having romantic feelings for each other. “Can you just open the box?” Bayley requests, pushing her toes into Sasha’s ribs from her laid out position on the couch.

 

Sasha opens it to find a single key, the nervous humor that she uses to cope comes out again, “let me guess, the key to your heart?” she asks, but Bayley isn’t laughing this time.

 

“You already had that,” she offers, looking into Sasha’s eyes, and the pins and needles in her heart vibrate, she starts to believe her, “it’s a spare key to my apartment, so you don;t have to knock or wait for me to come home, I know we got rid of all _his_ stuff, but if you ever need to escape…” Bayley trails off waiting for some sort of reaction. But Sasha is getting better at “Thank you”s, at letting people do things for her, at feeling like maybe she deserves it.

 

“Thank you” she finally voices, pulling herself forward to settle against Bayley’s chest in a makeshift hug that Bayley morphs into a cuddle.

“And I was thinking,” Bayley whispers into Sasha’s hairline, hesitantly, “maybe when one of our leases are up we could just stay in one apartment, it doesn’t really make sense to pay double when were sleeping in the same bed every night”

 

Bayley had clearly thought this through, laid out the foundation for this, but moving in together seems like a big change, especially considering that she still isn’t sure how they’re defining their relationship. But that change won’t come for at least the next 6 months. The butterflies in her stomach yield when the thought of sharing a space that’s _theirs,_ the fears leave her mind as Bayley pulls her closer knowing that Bayley wouldn't let her go regardless of her answer, content to hold Sasha for as long as she’ll let her.  

 

And no answer comes when the distraction of Sasha’s phone chiming in her pocket fills the air. 

 

“Could you get that for me?” Sasha murmurs into Bayley’s neck, content in never moving again.

 

Bayley pulls the device from Sasha’s back pocket easily, reading the notification that reads: imessage

Dr. Hemsley

 

When Bayley reads the name a loud, Sasha heart buckles momentarily in confusion, in surprise, in worry. Having Hunter’s cell phone number seemed kind of personal at first, but so was therapy in general, so when he had given it to her during their first session she put it in the back of her mind. Having him in her pocket, at her fingertips at all times, was a reassuring safety net that she had yet to use, but it seemed like she was breaking their virtual silence. 

 

She sits up to read the message, softly prying the device from Bayley’s willing hands, as Bayley moves to sit up too. 

 

_Hi Sasha. I forgot to ask during our session earlier if it would possible to bring Bayley along with you next week. Maybe i can get a better idea of your dynamic and maybe she can get a better understanding of how this is helping you. I hope you have a good night. See you soon._

 

Sasha’s first instinct is to laugh at his use of full sentences and correct punctuation even in text form, take a friendly jab at his age, but the content of the message takes over her initial desire. 

 

“What?” Bayley asks in reaction to the blankness that takes over Sasha’s face, a statement of worry.

 

There’s a time of static contemplation that feels like a minute but is only a few seconds as Sasha’s brain zooms through the possibilities of this event, finding its finish line in a territory that doesn’t completely frighten her, and weighing Bayley’s reaction to what she’d be asking of her. But being afraid is getting pretty boring.  The pressure on the prefrontal cortex of her brain reminding her of Bayley’s true nature weighs heavier than that of the hovering mentality that all things approach doom. So she isn’t scared when she smiles and says “Hunter wants to meet you”.

 

Sasha could bank on the “okay, What time?” that so easily comes out of Bayley’s mouth.

 

\----

 

Sasha hadn’t assumed that being friends with Becky would sign her up for a constant bombardment of text messages. She thought Becky was more laid back, more likely to want to come off as uncaring, unbothered, too cool to text first, but Becky wasn’t like that. 

 

Instead she was fiery, funny, crazier than Sasha had anticipated, always willing to text Sasha about her abnormal thoughts, the inner workings she was trying to puzzle through, and generally about the characters Becky tended to meet at her job at a deli a few blocks from Tony’s cafe.

 

Becky likes to joke that her and Sasha were meant to meet; or else they wouldn’t have the same therapist, wouldn’t happen to work and live so close to each other. It’s easy to bond over the usual crazy New York customers that their forced to cater to on an almost daily basis.

 

A part of Sasha thought that the heavy influx of text messages was a little too much at first, especially considering how short a time they’ve been friends, but Becky had a little bit of the same magic as Bayley, enough pixie dust to make Sasha trust her. 

 

And their are heavy moods that swing harshly enough for Sasha to detect through pixelated words. Like when Becky is tired, or drank too much, or is beating around the bush. But it's never urgent, well only ever as urgent as Becky running out of quinoa, or Becky’s unwavering need to complain about _how pretty Charlotte is and how she’ll never ever love her back in a million years._

 

But now seems different. 

 

_Hey_

 

_R u busy?_

 

The two messages come in quick succession, but Sasha can almost hear the sullen breath that comes between them, understands the weight of it. Becky isn’t asking her to hang out, she’s asking for something else, maybe something akin to tying balloons to the weight on her shoulders and letting Sasha and the atmosphere share in her grief.

 

Sasha replies with little thought more than a coat of protective spray taking hold of her psyche, ready and willing to be Becky’s support beam.

Becky asks her to come to her apartment building, top floor, which is a little suspect considering Becky lives on the 9th floor, not the 16th, but Sasha rides up the elevator without question. 

 

Upon the elevator doors opening, Sasha immediately sees Becky standing a few feet away, her hands clenched into the pockets of a leather jacket despite the warm July weather, her jaw tightened, shoulders higher than usual. Becky wordlessly nods her over, waits to see that Sasha is following, before leading the shorter girl through a convoluted expanse of hallway that narrows into a doorway that leads to cement steps, where Becky is pulling a key from her pocket and twisting the knob to a seemingly heavy door, and Sasha is finding herself on the top of Becky’s apartment building, the air hitting more harshly against her skin as she stands some thousand feet above the ground.

 

Sasha’s first instinct is to question who Becky had to beat up to get a key to the roof, but the look on Becky’s face doesn’t seem like its in any mood for joking. So she swallows it down, follows Becky a little closer to the edge where the orange haired woman takes a hard look at the expanse of ground bustling beneath them, as cars and buses and bicyclists and walking people pass them by. Becky doesn’t turn back to look at Sasha, but she can sense the uneasy aura pouring out of her.

 

“Don’t look so scared, Banks. I’m not gonna jump.” Becky voices in a passionate chuckle, her voice coated in a poison of trying too hard that Sasha has never heard before. But the words don’t ease Sasha’s mind, instead, fueling her with a possibility that her mind had only half thought of before Becky’s words.

 

Becky takes a seat on the unblemished cement about 2 feet from the ledge, her legs crossed as if she was getting ready to meditate. It takes a few practiced breaths before Sasha is gaining the courage to walk up next to Becky and not continue two feet more until there was nowhere left to step.

 

“What’s your biggest dream?” Becky voices in a poetic push as Sasha settles next to her.

 

“I don’t know” Sasha responds too quickly, an easy tell to the meek hiding she’s trying at.

 

“C’mon, kid. Ya gotta wanna do something?” Becky asks again.

 

Sasha only shrugs. She wants a lot of things. To be happy. To get a degree. To start a family. Have kids. To visit Japan. To find the things that make life worth living. They all seem like too much to let loose into the humid air.

 

“What about you? What do you wanna do, Becks?” 

 

There’s a resigned sigh of contemplation.

 

“What if what you want more than anything in the world is unattainable?” Becky poses a new question instead of answering Sasha’s.

 

And Sasha’s fiery passion of persuasion is back with, “For the hundredth time Becky, Charlotte would be lucky to have y-”

 

But Becky is swatting at one of Sasha’s arms while performing a solid facepalm onto her own forehead.

 

“NO. That's not what I’m talking about.”

 

“Then what?”

 

Sasha has never seen Becky moving so slowly, so pensive, so entranced in her own potential.

 

“I want to wrestle. More than anything.” Becky finally says, asserting eye contact with Sasha.

 

“But you stopped because you got injured right?” Sasha tries at finding answers to stories Becky had half told her, but not wanting to force Becky to reveal anything.

 

“Yeah. The last time I was in a ring was 6 years ago. My neck was so fucked up, Sasha. They said I could have died. I remember the look on my dad’s face when I was rushed to the hospital. I never want to make him feel like that again.”

 

Sasha isn’t sure when she placed her hand on Becky’s shoulder or when her thumb began to drag small circles into the bone there, but the soothing touch seems to be of aid.

 

“But you just said that was your dream. It’s been 6 years Becky. And your finally coping through letting a huge part of your life go. But I see how much this means to you. I don’t want you dead, but I don’t want you alive to be miserable either”

 

Becky lets out a harsh breath at Sasha’s words, an end to the stalemate of wondering where this conversation would land. “Do you really want to work at a deli for the rest of your life?’ Sasha adds when the air doesn’t seem as thick. Becky’s serious resolve breaks for a short laugh. 

 

“Hunter keeps telling me I have to decide for myself. If it’s worth the risk”

 

“Is it?”

 

“I’m not sure anymore”

 

“I don’t think you should abandon something you love, because you hit a bump in the road. Maybe the universe was just testing you, seeing if you were willing to fight for it.” Sasha tries again.

 

“You’re actually kind of good at the whole nurturing advice thing” Becky says like an epiphany.

 

“Did you think I wouldn’t be?” Sasha gasps in a mock offended tone.

 

\----

 

Somehow Bayley ends up getting to Dr. Hemsley’s office earlier than Sasha, a weird occurrence as Sasha would be coming from work, a shorter distance than that between their apartments and the therapist. But Bayley is fine waiting. 

 

That is until she walks through the door and is confronted with the presence of a certain blonde receptionist who seems very keen on intruding into Bayley’s needs.

 

“What can I do for you today?” Charlotte asks politely with practiced ease, as she’s never seen Bayley before and is simply trying to direct her. But Charlotte’s sincerity only makes Bayley more nervous. She feels strange here, like an outsider cracking into something, someone and somewhere she’d only heard about. Because Becky had said “Imagine a sexy blonde skyscraper of a woman” but Bayley hadn’t expected the regal quality about her. So she finds herself tripping over her words in her reply.

 

“Oh. I-I’m fine, thanks. I’m just waiting for my-my. Sasha.” 

 

“My Sasha?” Charlotte pretends to question aloud, “You must be Bayley?”

 

As the words tumble from Charlotte’s mouth in a teasing scoff, the door opens to reveal Sasha. She senses the weird vibe that stretches between the two women in front of her. She shifts her eyes between them as if she were trying to sniff out the guilty party, as if it could be anyone but Charlotte, as if she could ever blame Bayley for anything. Charlotte looks back, like she’s expecting something, a show of some sort, like Bayley might show her how “my Sasha” is fitting, or a challenge for Sasha to fight back.

 

A calm “I see you’ve met Charlotte” makes its way out of Sasha’s mouth as she grabs Bayley’s wrist and pulls her out of the waiting room and into the room their session will take place in. Sasha’s words prompt the release of a full laugh from Charlotte, the ones that Sasha loves to hear after a deep therapy session.

 

\----

 

Hunter and Bayley click easily in a way that sort of makes Sasha jealous and grateful at the same time. But Hunter makes a stupid joke that leaves Bayley laughing for longer than necessary and its suddenly like Bayley is inducted into their exclusive clique at a moments notice. The air isn’t unsettling. There seems to be a promise of open thought and honesty and team mentality spread amply between them.

 

After a short time of asking about how they became friends, Hunter steers the conversation toward Bayley’s feelings in regard to Sasha, a possibility Sasha hadn’t run through her brain prior to the present.

 

“How do you feel about Sasha’s situation?” comes his straight forward words, and Sasha isn’t sure what to expect from Bayley, but the “It’s not her fault, any of it” that fights free from Bayley’s tongue is maybe the last thing on the list.

 

“I’m just trying to be there for her as best as I can,” she adds when she feels like her first answer was too emotional, not connected enough to the question, because she doesn’t entirely know how to answer in a way that doesn’t illustrate her complete devastation. 

 

“Do you ever get frustrated when things don’t seem to be getting better?”

 

“I understand that it’s going to take a long time, I know Sasha can have a hard time letting people help” Bayley offers, trying her best not to act like Sasha isn’t sitting right beside her.

 

“And is that frustrating? That she can be wary of accepting your support?”

 

Bayley takes a deep breath, finding Sasha’s hand with her own in the space between then, holds it tightly as she releases heavy sentiments.

 

“I know she has issues with abandonment. And I know that like screws you up, makes it harder to let people in, let them stay, but I’ve broken down enough walls to know that staying is worth it” her eyes move to connect with Sasha’s then, a shift in the universe, “I won’t let you push me out” 

 

“I won’t” Sasha promises.

 

And maybe Bayley’s words run all the bases in Sasha’s head for once, hit home base in a flurry of acceptance. Acceptance of all the things Sasha truly deserves.The pressure on her heart eases and her ribcage bucks up in a moment of concrete loyalty and euphoria. Bayley knows home is in Sasha’s laughter. Sasha just might let her hear it forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter has been a whirlwind. i really didnt know where i was going after the trial or how to write them, but Uma got me thinking in relation to their emotions again rather than their actions and like i knew the beginning and the theme for the chapter and how i wanted to extend it to becky too and then i got really hype about it like i couldnt wait to actually write it cuz i just wanted u guys to read it so bad ugh (but dont worry im still not in love with my writing...)and like i actually have plans for the next chapter and like the future already which never happens...we stan..also im shook that im already 17 chapters in (longest fic ive ever written), hope you guys are still reading when i be writing chapter 622...


	18. Return

re·turn

/rəˈtərn/

verb

1.come or go back to a place or person.

 

——

 

Becky has been acting sort of manic lately, a nervous energy since Sasha and her conversation on the roof. Sasha’s not sure what to do or if she should do anything at all, if there was something that could help her, or slow down the anxious tendency. She sort of blames herself, for telling Becky to follow her dreams, if its created someone who’s unaware of their next step.

 

But as scared as Becky’s general demeanor is she seems _happy._ Happy to be moving in a direction of worth, happy to return to something she loved, knowing she has Bayley and Sasha’s support. 

 

Becky signs up for an independent wrestling event a few miles from Time Square, they ask her to try out, and they say “yes”. The movement comes back to her with ease, the strain in her neck comes and goes, but the smile on her face is a constant. She feels stronger everyday, mind and body. She’s not signing any big contracts, and she’s not on anyone’s TV screens, but she knows she has to be patient, can’t skip any steps.

 

“It’s not about the fame or the glory.” Becky whispers to Bayley one night on her balcony, Sasha long asleep on Becky’s couch inside, “It’s just the rush you get when you pull a move correctly for the first time, when the crowd is in it with you, I just want to give someone something to believe in.”

 

“I believe in you” is the only response Bayley is capable of. And everyday Becky realizes more and more how perfect she is for Sasha. But the plethora of reassurances help Becky too when Becky asks them to come watch her to train, and Bayley is standing at ringside like an over involved soccer mom, grinning proudly with every punch Becky lands. And Sasha is pulling her back when the action gets too close to the side of the ring. They come along with her, take cool pictures that make her look tougher than she is. Bayley makes bad jokes like “What’s a wrestling chef’s signature move? A SOUP-plex”. Sasha brings extra water and snacks. Bayley spends a good 5 minutes acting like she has a medical license after Becky takes a particularly hard bump to the face, examining her nose like she knew whether it was broken or not.

 

Becky appreciates the camaraderie. She misses her family back home more than anything, but Sasha and Bayley do well in making her feel cared for, making her feel like this is the right decision.

 

\----

 

Charlotte has noticed her favorite patients smiling more. It’s not that she’s usually one to pick favorites, but Becky and Sasha seem like good people, the type of people she’d want to surround herself with, and she did always love an underdog.

 

Charlotte’s always been observant, especially with Becky. She can tell when a session has been more taxing than revitalizing, always knows when a few words of encouragement or an extra bright smile is needed. But she’s always sort of amazed at how well it works. That even on the days when Becky is looking hopeless, Charlotte can offer Becky the last of her Peanut m&m’s and that changes everything, gives Becky a reason to smile, and then smile again and again quietly to herself for the rest of the day.

 

It’s not long before Charlotte has to admit to herself that the annoying red head has actually found a place in her heart.

 

And it’s kind of how she feels about Sasha, and even Bayley: she wants the best for them, happiness, but it’s different with Becky, she knows that. Something about the accent, and the dramatics, and her big brown eyes that bore into her in the best way possible.

 

One day Becky is extra jittery walking out of Hunter’s office, a spring in her step interferes with the hesitation in her heart, creating a funny looking limp as she embarks on the short journey from Hunter’s door to Charlotte’s desk. The unintentional rhythm created in Becky’s uneven steps makes it hard for Charlotte to hold in a laugh, but the fear in Becky’s eyes settle any giggles away from the surface.

 

“Hey, Charlie” Becky starts, a nickname that Sasha has adopted too, but the name feels different on the foreigners lips, “Are you busy friday night?”

 

Charlotte hadn’t expected that, hopes the fear in Becky’s eyes isn’t because of her. Hopes Becky is insinuating what she thinks she is. But Charlotte has never given in so easily, has never been one to outright swoon in the face of someone she liked, Charlotte liked to be wooed. 

 

“No, I’m free. Why?”

 

Becky’s face lights up in lieu of Charlotte’s seeming lack of interest. Charlotte smiles back slightly, having trouble concealing the joy she receives in Becky’s joy.

 

“I wanted to invite you to this thing, but it’s a surprise okay? I’ll text you the details.” Becky rushes out, like a child ordering ice cream.

 

Charlotte doesn’t like surprises, likes to have control, hates to think she’s weak for Becky, but her heart wins out in favor of the child like human in front of her. 

 

“ _It’s a date.”_ Charlotte says in a voice that lacks emotion, but her heart sings differently.

 

\----

 

Bayley tries to establish good habits. She’s always been someone who strives for positive thought patterns, healthy eating, paths that don’t resemble anything destructive. And she knows there’s a predisposition for chaos to occur when the world can be your own worst enemy. She learned pretty early on in her adolescence that it wouldn’t help her to hate herself. But loving something still finding its way, isn’t always easy. And good habits, solid routines helped break her into the person she is today. She’d call herself beautiful until she believed it. Went to the gym regularly, an internal chorus of “you can. You can.” until a goal was reached. Conditioned herself to breathe through tough situations with family members. Dropped alcohol cold turkey when it got out of hand, didn’t step foot in a liquor store for a sure 21 days, until her feet learned a new routine of not crossing the threshold of the door every night. 

 

She knew the importance of practice. And she knew maybe Sasha did too. But she tried it anyway. Tried to establish a routine between them. That maybe, just maybe the repetition of Sasha waking up in Bayley’s arms over and over could chip at the woes of abandonment. Maybe Bayley and Sasha eating breakfast together, watching early morning cartoons on the couch, brushing their teeth together as Sasha bounces her hip against Bayley’s to tell her to move away from the sink enough for Sasha to spit. Watching Sasha leave for work, just to be there when she returns. Maybe the routine could change her mind, make her realize that tomorrow will be the same, that Bayley isn’t going anywhere.

 

And it seems to be working, Bayley checking days off a calendar, waiting to reach 21 days, the habit forming finish line, but day 17 is different. Because Bayley wakes up in Sasha’s bed. But she’s alone: her arms aren’t holding something sturdy, her legs not tangled with Sasha’s and warm sheets, there isn’t a calm stream of breath pressed into her shoulder, the weight holding her closer to the bed is not settled on her. She doesn’t lift her head to find half-open brown eyes waiting for her. There’s no sharing of early morning yawns and no battle to keep her in bed just 5 minutes longer. 

 

And Bayley pushes up off the mattress easily, takes note of the clock reading 9 am, the time they’d usually wake up, but the emptiness in her heart pulls her back down for a moment. For a second, she’s the one who feels abandoned. And she knows it probably isn’t healthy to be so dependent, that any relationship will have to endure time apart, but she still doesn’t feel right with Sasha not beside her. She convinces herself that Sasha will be back, that there’s a good reason to break their routine.

 

\----

 

Sasha wakes up at 3 am in a flurry of pushing. She’s breathing heavily in the dark, Bayley holding her from behind, but the extra push from her ribcage doesn’t seem to wake Bayley from her deep slumber. Sasha lays there trying to cycle through the content of her dream.

 

_There was a butterfly._

_White._

_And purple._

_And i followed it._

_Tried to find how we could co-exist._

_But he always flew too fast._

 

Her breaths feel like a rebirth, something new in the end of her chase. And Bayley is warm and usually that’s a good thing, but right now it's sort of suffocating. So she pushes again. This time away from the sleeping form, freeing herself from the weight of things she thought she couldn’t breathe without. Because she is everything beautiful in this world, a startling surge of love and support, but Sasha can’t love her until she’s loved herself. And she’s really trying to do that for once.

 

So she leaves Bayley there, knowing that she’ll be back. She tries to leave Bayley a note, but the minute and a half it takes to find a pen is taxing enough to deter her from finding something to write on. The way her hand shakes with pen in hand seals her fate.  

 

There’s a breathy struggle of putting on pants and shoes where she tries to move quickly enough to stay on this high, but slow enough to not wake Bayley up in her hurry. She grabs her wallet in a moment of fear, knowing her license will do her well in the case of someone murdering her on the street, because she isn’t entirely unaware of the dangers of a female college student waking the new york city streets at 3 in the morning. She leaves Bayley’s keys in the bowl by the door, because she doesn’t think she’d be too focused behind a wheel right now.

 

She takes the stairs down to the street instead of the elevator which isn’t a hassle living on the 2nd floor, but the steps do enough to get her blood pumping harder than it already was. 

 

She walks.

 

With no intended destination.

 

For hours.

 

Chasing the metaphorical butterfly until he yields to her. Her brain untangles itself with every step. Something therapeutic in pushing herself forward with her own strength. Something freeing in the sweat that accumulates, watching the sunrise, wondering when Bayley will wake up and realize she’s gone.

 

But it doesn’t weigh her down, because she knows she’s going to return. But right now, all she knows is walking, cutting away the weeds from her hippocampus, planting new seeds in the sensitive tissue there, watering the buds, sunlight. 

 

It’s almost noon when she stops. The fatigue setting in rivals the liberation in her bones. And she realizes she hasn’t eaten or drank anything since last night, and maybe the butterfly, white and purple, that comes to sit on the ground a few feet in front of her in a hallucination, but he flies away suddenly and she doesn’t see where he goes. His freedom makes her cut the final tie, freeing herself from even him.

 

She finds a clean looking curb to sit on while she contemplates her next move. Sitting there, the summer sun starts to beat down on her black hair, tingle at her tanned skin. The heat casts a harsh strain to the top of her head as she gazes at the shops across the street. 

 

She finds a quaint looking salon, and thinks that the rebirth can finally be complete.

 

\----

 

Bayley tries to be productive, goes to the gym, cleans both of their apartments, catches up on a few episodes of Queer Eye that Sasha had watched without her, and tries with every fiber of her body not to freak out. And it works for the most part, settled by how happy Sasha has been over the past two weeks, how their friendship with Becky has only seemed to brighten everything, how well they’ve co-existed.

 

She receives a text around noon that lets her let go of the one fear she was holding:

 

_Im okay_

_I went for a walk to clear my head_

_Ill be home in a few hrs_

 

“Home” settles her even more. A place in each other’s arms.

 

\----

 

It’s almost 5pm when Sasha knocks on her own door. She didn’t take her keys, something that slipped her mind in the early morning among the chaos behind her eyes. Bayley answers the knocks almost too quickly, like she had been standing behind the door, waiting. 

 

Sasha is standing there, purple hair once more. A new found lightness to her features, something carefree in her posture. It reminds Bayley of when they first met, of when they’d first started to let each other under their skin, of Sasha and who she truly is. And Sasha laughs at her as she takes in the blank admiration pouring out of her eyes, because Sasha doesn’t know how to accept that much love, not yet. So Sasha finds herself looking down at their feet instead of Bayley’s too telling eyes.

 

Bayley moves forward to hold Sasha. A hug that feels like a new beginning and a shot of the past all at once. Because Sasha will never get her innocence back, will never know a life that all the turmoil didn’t touch, but she can go back to the joy, to the desire for better, to the dreams she won’t let go of, now with new knowledge, with new friends, with new love.

 

\----

 

Friday night could not come soon enough for Charlotte. She was excited about spending time with Becky outside of work. But in the beginning, she was a little skeptical, wondered if it was too unprofessional to date someone from her job. And she’d worried about it enough to eventually resort to asking Hunter his opinion on the matter. 

 

“I think Becky could use someone like you in her life. You won’t know if you don’t try.” he offers her, always sounding all too wise.

 

The words are enough to get her through the day without panicking, prolonging her nerves enough until she’s reading the address Becky sent her and hailing a cab. But as she’s sitting in the back, her heart starts to jolt in a wave of uncertainty. The address is for a small arena in Queens. Charlotte quickly googles the arena to see what event is taking place and finds a website for professional wrestling. 

 

It dawns on her that perhaps Becky wants to share something she loves, let Charlotte into her world. She briefly imagines sitting next to Becky in the crowd as they watch two large men pummel each other, how she’d duck behind Becky’s shoulder if things got too intense, squeeze her hand when punches landed too hard. Becky would surely be way too into it, and Charlotte would laugh at her antics. 

 

Charlotte is halfway through the mental image of Becky pushing her up against a gym wall, about to have her way with her, when her cab driver announces that they’ve arrived.

 

Walking into the arena, Charlotte finds that the line for tickets is pretty long and from the looks of it, most people are already seated inside. She sends Becky a _Hey im here where r u???_ text, but the orange haired misfit only responds with a monkey emoji, bashfully covering his eyes, followed by _i’ll see u soon._

 

That confused Charlotte more than it helped her. Had Becky set her up? Stood her up? Why would she send her here? Was she on her way or? She closes her eyes for a moment, having to remind herself of Becky’s kind eyes, the way she smiles quietly to herself when no one’s looking, the friendship they’ve created.

 

In her lapse of calm, Charlotte hears her name among the chaos of the all the voices around her. But it isn’t Becky’s voice. Its Bayley’s. She opens her eyes to find the brunette a few feet in front of her, squeezing through the dense crowd. Her short stature makes her hard to find, but Charlotte can see Sasha too, a few feet behind, being pulled excitedly by their joined hands. Charlotte is thrown by their presence almost as much as the new color of Sasha’s hair, she’s not sure which to question first, so Bayley beats her to the punch.

 

“We saw the line was getting long, so we just bought you a ticket” Bayley reveals, telling Charlotte that they knew more than she did.

 

“Thanks guys! I like the new hair, Sash. It suits you.” She responds, not knowing if she should question Becky’s absence.

 

Sasha smiles back, in genuine acceptance of her compliment, trying to get better at accepting that positive assurance can be honest. “It was actually purple before we met. I dyed it black after everything happened”

 

“I’m glad you’ve returned to your purple self” Charlotte adds awkwardly,feeling friendly enough to briefly run her fingers through the ends of Sasha’s bright tresses, meaning her words, but also feeling more confused by the second. It dawns on her that maybe she read the signs wrong, maybe this isn’t a date.

 

They take their seats shortly after, something settling in her mind when the easy camaraderie flows between the three of them. Regardless of what this is, she can’t deny the familial chemistry that comes out between them.

 

Still she finds herself wondering, and eventually asking, “Where's Becky?”

 

“I think she said her match was third” Bayley releases like she’s trying to remember and the scene finally clicks together as she sees Bayley’s furrowed brow.

 

Becky isn’t with them because she’s competing. Becky wanted Charlotte to be here, to witness her in-ring return, to share this new beginning, to end a chapter of the unknown. And Charlotte doesn’t care that it’s not a date. This is more than enough.

 

\---- 

 

Friday night comes too soon for Becky. There’s something so nostalgic about it all even though she’s never competed in this specific location: the ring, the muscles, the sweat, the ringing in her ears right before a match, and the way her heart settles from racing to calm as her name gets announced and she takes her place in the ring. _Her place_. Exactly where she belongs. 

 

And the fear in her veins turns to triumph when she spots Charlotte, Sasha, and Bayley sitting ringside, looking at her like some messiah, like she owns the place.

 

And the match isn’t perfect. Her opponent seems pretty rusty, the moves not coming back to her as easily as Becky. But they find rhythm quickly enough. Becky finds herself with the upper hand more often than not, landing fists and harsh kicks, flying down from the top rope in a cascade of adrenaline, to come crashing down on her opponent. The crowd roars in response and she feels like she’s found her groove. She finds momentum in the way she pushes out of a pin, twists skillfully into an arm bar submission. She can feel the ripple of pressure as her opponent taps out. The bell rings. She looks to her friends as she raises her arms in victory. She is home.

 

\----

 

When the event is over Sasha and Bayley sort of fall into a simulated high and Charlotte feels the effects too, but she’s having a good time observing the two talk about Becky’s match like a highlight reel, taking time to digest the new inclusion of herself in their group.

 

Their standing outside on the sidewalk as the other event-goers start to dissipate, the crowd thinning as the sun goes down and the street lights flash on. Charlotte laughs when Sasha pulls Bayley into a playful headlock. They play fight while they wait for Becky, Sasha pulling out silly submissions, Bayley making outrageous sound effects with her mouth as she punches the air in front of Sasha’s face, and Sasha sells every fake hit to the point that Charlotte is almost crying from laughing. Sasha climbs on Bayley’s back, taking Bayley’s backward hat off and placing it on her own head.

 

“Tap! You big dumby!” Sasha orders, wrapping her hands around Bayley’s face from behind. 

 

“Never!” Bayley counters, letting go of Sasha’s legs to let her land on her feet.

 

Bayley’s strategy switches from fake punches to real tickling as she attacks Sasha’s ribs with her fingers. Between their vocal outbursts and Sasha’s and Charlotte’s loud laughter, a lot of strangers are staring at them. Sasha and Bayley are too preoccupied to care about any unwanted attention. And Charlotte is spurred on by this new connection, it prompts her not to care what people think.

 

Bayley lifts Sasha off the ground while she’s got her guard down from the tickling, she holds her like a knight might hold a damsel in distress, and Sasha’s arms hook around Bayley’s neck, their lips close, but not touching, and Charlotte thinks the “fight” is over, but Bayley is laying Sasha on the ground. The concrete is dirty, litter and unknown stains coating its surface, but Sasha seems to play along, the hat coming off her head as she touches the ground. Sasha doesn’t fight it, sells the fact that she’s down for the count and ready to lose.

 

Charlotte is looking on, waiting for what comes next when Bayley calls out to her.

 

“Ref, Get ready to count!” Charlotte laughs, only hesitates for a moment before she kneels on the ground and counts to three, her hand coming down to the pavement in uniform succession, as Bayley holds up one of Sasha’s legs, and Sasha acts defeated. 

 

Bayley makes a noise that resembles a bell ringing and morphs her voice to sound like an announcer, “And still your undefeated champ! Bayyyyyleyyy!”

 

She helps Sasha up, pulling her hands to get her to stand. Charlotte jokingly bows down to Bayley as a sign of respect for her glory.

 

The spell of unchecked fun and childish hilarity is broken by the sound of slow clapping from a few feet away. The crowd has mostly dispersed by now, no one wanting to be associated with their impromptu show, and it’s easy to see who the sound is coming from.

 

“Becky!” Sasha springs forward in a moment of pure elation at seeing her friend.

 

They all come together then, a crashing of waves on the shore, a group hug to top all other group hugs. Its Sasha and Becky first, Bayley holding them together, Charlotte not sure she  belongs until she sees Bayley’s eyes calling to her, and she finishes the circle with ease.

 

When they finally pull back, Becky holds Sasha by the shoulders a moment longer, they get a good look at each other, Sasha thinks to say “I’m so proud of you” but she already knows that Becky can see the words in her eyes. And Becky doesn’t want to cry, doesn’t want to let go of the pain of not trying just yet, so she holds it in for a little longer, wills the tears away as Sasha moves her hand to wipe the one that comes free down her cheek.

 

“Coming for my brand with the brightly colored hair, I see?” Becky questions, inserting a new line of thinking so they don’t have to talk about the paths that feel so heavy.

 

Sasha smiles, moves to explain, but Charlotte does it for her, “Apparently were the ones that are late to the party”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ummmm how'd yall feel about that...???
> 
> i was actually like excited to write this chapter and that i hope that feeling continues 
> 
> thx for the encouragement to keep going (yall know who you are) i wouldnt be doing this without it so like really THANK YOU
> 
> also like tbh i dont super care about like numbers (i like making connections with all of you, bringing this community the content it deserves, bonding over something we all enjoy, and just like if i can make you forget about anything bad or hard going on in your life for just a minute while youre reading like thats the goal, that means the world to me) but also this is the 7th most kudoed work in the Sasha/Bayley tag and thats really fucking cool. the competitive leo in me is having a thriving!


	19. Hypocrite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sasha fed us dinner. 
> 
> I got us with dessert...

hypocrite 

[ noun ](https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/noun)

hyp·o·crite | \ ˈhi-pə-ˌkrit  \

 

1.a person who acts in contradiction to his or her stated beliefs or feelings

 

\----

Sasha has always been a dreamer. Some of her earliest memories consist of pretending to be a Princess, a faceless knight coming to whisk her away from her sufferings. But the world hardened her as she grew, stripped away the person that dreamed out loud. And Finn made it hard to know if there was an escape, if she should even bother dreaming at all. But she takes deep breaths, reminds herself that all that is behind her. Because the people in her life now only want the best for her.

 

Bayley is her rock, a sturdy permanence holding her up in moments of weakness. Charlotte is water, fueling her to be as weightless, as carefree. Becky is fire, forcing her into motion, pushing risk, knowing there is a reward.

 

But as she lay in bed with Bayley, her face pressed into her collarbone, their arms thrown around each other, she can’t help, but contemplate how static this is.

 

Sasha had just finished an 8 hour shift at the cafe, and Bayley had just gotten home from grocery shopping, and its mid-afternoon, and their only wish is to take a nap, the summer sun seemingly more exhausting today than any other. And they lay together in Bayley’s bed, a sheet covering them, the warmth of body contact almost too much, but the air conditioner is blasting and that will have to be enough.

 

Sasha’s dreams have been at the forefront of her brain since her conversation with Becky on the roof. Because maybe it’s kind of hypocritical to tell Becky to fight for what she wants when she isn’t doing the same.

 

A switch went off in her brain then, about who she wanted to be. She had been rather mixed up when it came to choosing a Major her freshman year of college, settling for a Media degree thinking maybe broadcasting or journalism would be a good path, but after a year of ethics and media classes, she knew it wasn’t a good fit. She switched to communications knowing that the topic held her attention to a degree, but not being 100% in love with it. And she’s got one year left, until her degree is complete, but new beginnings sometimes call for difficult changes. 

 

She breaths in the scent of Bayley’s skin and knows what she wants to do. And for once she isn’t scared to claim her knowledge out loud.

 

She wants to help people.

 

People like her, kids without parents, kids who feel alone, teenagers who think death is the only viable answer. And she knows she could be a doctor, but she doesn’t want to treat rashes or sew up skin, she wants to be someone people can talk to, can relate to, can be a beacon for change, for hope, for new beginnings. 

 

“I think I want to change majors” are the words that come mumbled against Bayley’s collar bone, pushing up to search Bayley’s eyes for an opinion.

 

Sasha doesn’t miss the way Bayley’s eyebrows furrow, but she can read it clearly as a moment of adjusting to the new topic, rather than an expression of judgement.

 

“I mean you only have a year left,” Bayley voices after a moment of idle contemplation, knowing four more years of school to do something you’d actually enjoy for the rest of your life was an easy decision, “but it’s obviously your decision, it's affecting your life, and your happiness, and i’m gonna be here no matter what you decide.”

 

Sasha smiles, softly, but swiftly, her teeth showing, her eyes almost squinting shut.

 

“What did you have in mind?” Bayley asks, taking an extra moment to memorize Sasha’s smile.

 

“Counseling, Therapy. Maybe in a school. I’m not sure. But if I can help someone in a hard situation, just make it a little easier to get through, that’s all I want.”

 

And it’s Bayley’s turn to smile like never before, because she has never seen Sasha’s eyes brighten like they do now, has never heard her care about the words coming out of her mouth so earnesty. 

 

“Maybe we can work in the same school district one day” Bayley says. And Sasha can see it. A suburban home in Western Long Island, not to far from the city that never sleeps, never too far away from the place they met, the place where they fell in love. And they’ll drop the kids off at school before heading into work together, the work couple that everyone ogles at, wonders how and why their still so in love after all these years, and they’d eat their lunch together on a bench by the playground and wonder how everything had become so perfect.

 

\----

 

Sasha tells Charlotte about her epiphany. It comes out of her mouth like a river that she doesn’t know how to control, something easier about saying it for the second time. Charlotte is always an enabler, giving Sasha pamphlets from Hunter’s office on counseling, telling her about the college her father went to for his degree, provides her with the tools and knowledge, before she can swim across the ocean.

 

Sasha tells Becky about her new revelation. It feels less weighted, but maybe more chaotic than settling. Because Becky had asked her about dreams, but this doesn’t feel like princesses and knights. It feels real. Like it wasn’t meant for the clouds to carry, but something she could actually do, something she’ll have to put in motion. And Becky is good with kinetic energy, sets something aflame inside Sasha. It won’t be a walk, it’ll be a chase. 

 

\----

 

“Why don’t you just ask her out?” Sasha asks in a moment of weakness, an annoyance in the pout permanently etched on Becky’s face.

 

“It’s not that easy” Becky forces out in a sound of defeat.

 

Their at the gym, Becky and Sasha. Sasha currently spotting Becky on the bench press, supporting the bar just enough to not crash into Becky’s face if her arms give out. 

 

“Why not? She definitely likes you, Becks”

 

“I wouldn’t say definitely,” Becky grumbles, “Maybe like a 60% chance”

 

“You’re not willing to risk that other 40%?” Sasha questions again.

 

And it would be one thing if this was the first time they’d talked about it, but Sasha is relentless. And Becky knows her intentions are good, but the back and forth of it all is exhausting. Sasha’s trying to play matchmaker, and Becky doesn’t want any more games.

 

“You wouldn’t” Becky states without a second thought.

 

“Excuse me?” Sasha returns, equally exasperated and confused to what Becky is playing at. She removes her hands from the bar, adopting a defensive stance, her hands on her hips, leaving Becky with the full extent of the weight. Becky puts the weight down, ducking under the bar to sit up and face Sasha.

 

She doesn’t want to fight with Sasha. She knows fighting can be healthy, but this would be their first one, and it seems to be a heavy topic. And perhaps they aren’t the type of people to earnestly fight over trivial things, like where they go for lunch or who pays the bill, but maybe unforseen territory isn’t meant for them either. 

 

“All I’m trying to say is that you should know that this shit is hard cuz of the situation with Bayley,” She tries her best to keep the fire at bay, uses her words instead of fists.

 

“What situation?” Sasha plays coy. And Becky can’t really blame the defense mechanism, can’t fight the resigned sigh that comes out of her mouth. Because Sasha has never explicitly told Becky, but Becky knows, sees the way they look at each other, but how they don’t kiss, sees how much Sasha lights up with Bayley in the room, but strays away from “i love you”. Sasha loves Bayley, that much is clear, but Sasha can’t admit it to herself, let alone Bayley. But why should Sasha tell Becky what to do when she can’t listen to her own advice?

 

“If this is so easy,” Becky hears her words, knows the sting might be too much, but it's too late to stop, “then why aren’t you and Bayley official?”

 

Becky doesn’t know what happens after that, an array of emotions crossing Sasha’s eyes, the rest of her face stone cold, but Becky can see her mind racing, trying to settle on one concrete feeling. Becky kind of expects her to run, to bolt out of the gym, maybe never speak to her again, but Sasha knows running doesn’t fix anything. Running doesn’t leave enough time for the caterpillar to shed its cocoon, to come back as a butterfly.

 

The silence doesn’t last long, Sasha’s eyes blink before a resigned acceptance seals over her features. “Alright, I’ll stop bugging you about it”

 

And Becky sort of feels bad, because she hoped that maybe her words would convince Sasha to talk to Bayley, not make her feel hopeless and upset. 

 

“Sasha…”, Becky reaches out to her, attempting to take Sasha’s hand, but the shorter girl takes a step back, effectively moving out of Becky’s reach. 

 

“It’s okay, you’re right.” Sasha answers trying to reassure her, but Becky doesn’t want to be right, she wants her friend to feel loved, and cared for, and never for a second question it.

 

\----

 

Bayley has always been a team player, someone who wishes to succeed, but to bring up as many people with her as she does. She’s a helper, a rule follower, someone who loves with everything she’s got, and doesn’t coat her heart with any protective layers. She leaves her heart out in the rain for thieves and liars alike. And yes, people do take advantage, because Bayley won’t say anything when people cut her in line when she visits Sasha at work, she gives people what they ask for, never asks for anything in return, let’s people take and take until they leave her a dying carcass on the side of the road, the smell of burnt heart stuck to the air.

 

People usually take an interest when they notice the innocence, the selfless qualities. And Bayley lets them take advantage, because she doesn’t know how to cut leashes, and still after everything, tries to see the best in people.

 

But Sasha was different. Bayley was the one knocking on her door. The kindness in her heart in her first act toward her neighbor. And Sasha wasn’t suddenly clinging to her because of it. Sasha gave back. And maybe Sasha did bring her soup because she was being annoyingly sick, but that doesn’t remove the care from the action. And Bayley sought Sasha out again. And when they became friends, Sasha wasn’t looking for things to take, or energy to use up. She was just looking for someone to laugh with.

 

But things got turned upside down so easily. A stark change from blooming friendships to potential romance only for all of it to blow up in Bayley’s face in the form of Finn and a knife. _Karma,_ Bayley thinks sometimes, a punishment for desiring someone who was taken. And yeah, she felt extremely guilty about it at the time, even with Finn’s violent tendencies, but now she only wishes she’d kissed her before he could come back, before he could pull out the knife.

 

And truthfully, none of it really matters anymore. Because both of them are better for it, smarter, more sentimental, attached to the small moments of tired smiles and calm heartbeats. And Sasha is that person again, the one looking for someone to laugh with.

 

But it’s felt like for a while now that Bayley’s path is heading straight into a brick wall. Because she doesn’t feel like Sasha has ever taken anything that Bayley hadn’t whole-heartedly offered. But for the time being she had morphed herself into a giver, because that’s what Sasha needed. A person to hold her up, to tell her she was worth it, to remind her until the words were formed in her own brain. 

 

And it’s beyond messed up for Bayley to help Sasha be the best version of herself while she puts her personal growth and self-love on the back burner in favor of helping someone else.

 

Because Sasha deserves someone who believes in themselves.

 

And Bayley hasn’t exactly been doing more than what she absolutely has to, grocery shopping once a week, following Sasha on outings, not much more. She can’t remember the last time she did something for herself, for her own sanity.

 

But Charlotte texts her the week after Becky’s first match back when Becky and Sasha are both at work. 

 

_Hey im about to go on my lunch break and i kind of dont wanna be alone_

_I hope thats not weird_

_Do u wanna get lunch?_

 

Bayley doesn’t think its weird at all.

 

She was sort of intimidated by Charlotte from their first interaction, but hanging out at the wrestling event and this text message solidified Charlotte’s genuine qualities.

 

Two weeks later they had set plans almost everyday to hang out during Charlotte’s lunch break. Sasha thought it was sort of funny at first, the way they had latched onto each other in a similar fashion to Becky and herself. But Charlotte and Bayley’s dynamic wasn’t as fiery and random as Becky and Sasha’s.

 

Sasha and Bayley were never starved for intimacy, a friendship that lacked secrets and personal space, both girls severely connected to their emotions. Sasha and Becky worked well together because they were the same type of crazy, the type to pop an ex’s tires or break someone’s nose for buying the last pack of Oreo’s. Bayley and Becky mostly got along on the basis of dad jokes and bad puns. But Charlotte and Bayley felt more serious, a basis of respect for the other people their bond would affect, which sprung easily into admiration and deep talks.

 

Bayley quickly learned that Charlotte was just as smart as she was physically strong. There was quick wit, and strong opinions, and experience oozing out of her. Bayley found her easy to talk to. No judgement. And Charlotte saw the light that Bayley brought with her everywhere, the wanting to make everyone around her feel important.

 

And it was a welcome addition to the monotony of the day when Sasha and Becky were at work. Pretty soon the comfortability was easy to find.

 

“So. I think I’m gonna tell Becky. I don’t know when, but...soon maybe” Charlotte starts, referencing the crush she’d told Bayley about a while ago. Bayley hadn’t expressed that she knew that Becky had returned the same feelings for the statuesque blonde, knowing that it wasn’t her information to divulge.

 

The words paint smiles on both of their faces. Charlotte moves to take a sip of her water, unthinking, her eyebrows raise for a second as if a new thought entered her mind, a question.

 

“How long have you and Sasha been together now?”

 

And Bayley sort of blanks on that. 

 

_Together?_

 

“Oh, were not..uh” Bayley corrects, making a back and forth gesture with her hand as if to clear the slate in front of her, before using the same hand to scratch the back of her neck in a combo of self-pity and shame.

 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I just thought-” Charlotte tries to swoop in to correct her mistake, but Bayley knows she never meant any harm.

 

“No, its okay, you didn’t know,” Bayley cuts off her apology sounding more sheepish than anything else.

 

And Charlotte’s kind of caught in a weird head space in the silence that follows. Because she hasn’t spent a crazy amount of time with any of them, the last month or so has felt like a lifetime, but she has to remind herself that these friendships are still new, she doesn’t know everything and that’s okay. But she thought she had that fact nailed down. _Sometime after Finn, Bayley and Sasha became like a thing._ Or at least she thought so, but apparently not.  Because Sasha had often gushed about Bayley, but okay, she never did call Bayley her “girlfriend”. But Charlotte thought Bayley’s slip up at the office the day they met with “my Sasha” and the play fighting on the side of the road more than solidified their relationship. Apparently not.

 

“But you like her though, right?” Charlotte asks, grasping for a line of thinking that makes sense.

 

Bayley seems more interested in her fingernails, but Charlotte’s question sings a new tune into her ear. Sasha deserves someone willing to shout their love for her from the top of the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree, not someone who can barely admit it. And suddenly it’s beyond embarrassing, that Charlotte met Becky a little over a month ago and is ready to confess her feelings, while Bayley’s known Sasha for 4 and is still acting like she doesn’t know what she wants.

 

She knows now better than ever.

 

“I think I’m in love with her”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to this long ass end note
> 
> First of all gahhhh Sasha’s return was everything. The first wig was clearly a wig and it make me uncomfy...but like I get it like... the drama of her being gone and now sis is wearing a wig cuz she got black hair haha...and we’re like OH FUCK SIS HAS BLUE HAIR
> 
> BY THE FUCKING WAY! Do u know who else has blue hair? I FUCKING DO! Further proof that I live inside Sasha’s brain...
> 
> Can I make sis change her hair color in the fic again or nah??? Ugh I need art to mirror life but I feel like it’s so extra now...
> 
> AND SHE LOOKED SO FUKCING GOOD AND THE FACT THAT SIS WAS LIKE LEAVING US HINTS ALL ALONGGGG WE LOVE A FUCKING BUTTERFLY!!!
> 
> anyway. This chapter! I was like super unmotivated to write it, but the return kinda re-encouraged me! Sasha didn’t let us down so I can’t let you guys down (lowkey wish I was writing a Becky/Sasha fic rn. Truly a period piece.) And then I realized that like ITS CHAPTER 19 and I’m 19, turning 20 in a few days and I wanted to write chapter 19 while I still was 19...cuz I’m poetic like that...
> 
> @uma thx for listening to CAPS LOCK RANT ABOUT THE RETURN TM EVEN THO U HIGHKEY HAVE NO CLUE WHATS HAPPENING


	20. Think

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> brace yourself for the feels

Think

/THiNGk/

_ Verb _

  1. have a particular opinion, belief, or idea about someone or something.



 

\---

 

Bayley has always been a person who puzzles things out before jumping to unconscious conclusions, especially when the consequences can overflow and create more problems than she began with. She’s never been someone for conflict or fighting. Confrontation was not a strong suit, but when the time came to make decisions she used all the branches of logic in her brain to find a suitable answer. She was never rash or quick, never lashed out unintentionally, always contemplative, always thinking.

 

And her thoughts for the better part of the last 6 months have been consumed by one girl. A girl who she cared about more than anything. And it had never been about saving her. Because Bayley knew the only person who could truly save Sasha’s life was Sasha, but that didn’t stop her from trying to help, from being there in every moment she could. That didn’t stop her from being a friend. But being a friend brought more (one of the many unintended consequences). And yes, Bayley would love the consequence being a real relationship, getting to love Sasha without a filter. But at her core, all Bayley wants is for Sasha to be happy. And she won’t let anything get in the way of that. Even herself.

 

“I think I love her” is what she said and she thinks she does. But it’s so much weight.

So much change. And change is scary when she can’t be 100% sure of the outcome.

 

Because Charlotte thought they were dating already and it sort of feels like that sometimes: when Sasha is asleep, tucked between her arms, when they wake up together, the radiating warmth a welcome pressure, when Sasha looks at her like nothing else matters, when Becky nudges her when Bayley gets Sasha to laugh wholeheartedly, when Charlotte coughs every time their being “too couply” in public. But Bayley wants all of it. Wants to be able to kiss Sasha without questioning it. Wants to say the things her heart sings when she looks into Sasha’s eyes, wants to think about a future without feeling stupid for including Sasha in it, she wants to hold her hand in public, and post pictures of them being smitten and grossly in love on her instagram, she wants to see the smile on Charlotte’s face when its over, when Charlotte asking “How long have you and Sasha been together?” is a funny joke she’ll tell at their wedding, and not the words that ring in her ears on her death bed next to “What if?” and “Why not?”

 

But the road bends two ways, opposite in direction, and both seem altogether too drastic. Cutting in between makes no difference. Turning back is not an option.

 

Bayley has to choose.

 

\----

 

Sasha’s a fighter. She doesn’t sit and wait for things to happen, she goes out and gets them. And yes, she’s passionate and usually knows what she wants, but she definitely has acted too quickly in more than one case. But she’s putting things on the back burner. More concerned with mental health, she doesn’t act on the burning desire in her heart, the tingle of butterfly wings in her stomach. She thinks about what could be, if Bayley decides its worth it, if Bayley thinks it’s the right time, if she feels whole again enough to be something to someone. 

 

She keeps thinking about her conversation with Becky almost a week ago. Becky is a fighter too. And maybe Becky can’t see just how delicate all of this is, maybe Becky doesn’t understand why it can’t happen, and why Sasha can’t risk losing Bayley in favor of taking a next step. But maybe it doesn’t matter. Hunter taught them to fight for the things that make them happy, to think for your own well being, chase sunshine without regret. And Sasha hasn’t exactly been holding up her side of the bargain. 

 

She can’t just wallow and do nothing. Not any longer. Its not in her nature. That’s not who she is. It’s proof enough to her that it’s time, that she’s ready for the fall out, the consequences, the confetti at the end of her journey. 

 

Sasha’s a fighter, and there’s too much to lose for her not to fight for it.

 

\----

 

Sasha walks home with renewed passion. She’s just finished a session with Hunter. She’d told him what she wanted, he told her to go get it, deal with the issue of it later. There’s something indescribable in her pace, fast even for New York City, a determination, a flame kicking up beneath her feet,

 

She’s ready to lay it on the line, to be vulnerable. To be afraid, but do it in spite of the fear. She’s ready to stop thinking and start doing. 

 

The elevator up to her floor takes too long. She taps her foot through the long journey up the two floors between the lobby and her apartment silently barrating herself for not taking the stairs. 

 

When she walks up to her door, ready to bound inside with no game plan: to tell Bayley she’s in love with her, or kiss her in a way that leaves no questions, or get on her knees and beg Bayley to take her on the hallway floor, but the possibilities die in her brain when she sees a purple envelope taped to the outside of her door.

 

Her heart sinks as she recognizes the loopy cursive as Bayley’s handwriting. Her name.  _ Sasha.  _ With a heart drawn next to it. 

 

Sasha’s fingers trace the heart absentmindedly before pulling the envelope from its place on the door. She can’t help but think the worst,

 

A detailed letter of all the reasons they can’t be together.

 

Or

 

Bayley decided it was too much and she took all her stuff and left.

 

Or 

 

Sasha took too long to recover.

 

Or 

 

Sasha wasn’t good enough.

 

Or

 

All of the above.

 

But thinking is probably her worst option at the moment, so she takes a deep breath, sits on the floor, her back to her still unopened door, and opens the letter. 

 

_ “Dear Sasha, _

 

_ I love you.”  _ Sasha’s heart leaps from her chest at the words finally spoken, or written, but the sentiment is almost heavier, something tangible Sasha can lock away and keep forever, it isn’t her ears deceiving her, a sentence Bayley can now never take away.

 

_ “I keep thinking about how to start, but I just need to be honest. And that’s the truest sentence I could come up with. And I want so much for us. To be together for real. A new beginning where we don’t have to be afraid.”  _

 

_ “CUE THE CHEESY PART”  _ Sasha laughs then, the contrast of emotion finally making her notice the tears streaming down her face, but it’s in vain as the next words paint her face even heavier.

 

_ “A new start calls for a celebration _

_ With the only girl I want to see _

_ The first time I knew our love had no expiration _

_ You were eating ice cream across from me _

 

_ Find me where i bought you ice cream for the first time _

_ -Bayley” _

 

The riddle sort of throws her off course.  _ Hadn’t they already been through enough, why is Bayley prolonging this any longer?  _ But Sasha takes deep breaths, reminds herself that this is all it will take, that perhaps her final journey through the trenches is a testament to exactly how much they’ve been through, how much they’ve grown together, how much they truly love each other. The words don’t take long to formulate an answer in her mind. 

 

Bayley bought Sasha ice cream at McDonald’s months ago at 3 in the morning. The first time Sasha and Bayley took their friendship out in public, let onlookers see the spark, hear the laughter. The first time Sasha had really looked at Bayley, saw the genuine care. And at the time she was still with Finn, but the permeating thoughts that night, as they sit devouring McFlurrys, walking home as the sun came up, only consisted of Bayley.

 

So, Sasha walks there, a fire in her lungs as she wills her feet to move faster, but upon arriving at the fast food establishment, there’s no Bayley in sight. She probably should have known better than to think this would be her one stop on this impromptu scavenger hunt, but she’d hoped maybe that Bayley wouldn’t make her openly cry in too many public places today.

 

She approaches the table they’d shared to find a single yellow rose lying beside another envelope.

 

“ _ Yellow flowers symbolize friendship, and that’s all I wanted back then. But I can’t keep you so far away anymore.” _

 

_ “You followed the riddle and found my flower _

_ Will you stick around as the stakes get higher _

_ Another testament to your blooming power _

_ And the way you set my heart on fire _

 

_ Find me where fire lives” _

 

Sasha twists the rose between her fingers, holding the petals up to her nose to smell, taking note of the yellow that fades into pink at the tip of each petal. It parallels the way her feelings morphed for the brunette as time went on, she wonders vaguely if that was Bayley’s intention.

 

But she’s more focused on her next potential destination.  _ Where fire lives. _ Sasha didn’t plan on going camping today, and she doesn’t think Bayley does either. It has to be more clear cut than that.

 

Fire must be a person. Sasha’s brain shoots to orange locks and pretty brown eyes. 

 

Becky.

 

Sasha approaches Becky’s apartment at a slower pace than before, suddenly aware of the necessary confrontation this clue will entail. Becky and Sasha hadn’t spoken since they’re fight at the gym about a week ago. It wasn’t really a fight even and neither party felt wronged, but the heaviness of the situation was laid on thick and neither Sasha or Becky knew how to break through it, especially when neither were the type of people to apologize unless they felt they actually did or said something wrong. What was left was a well intentioned attempt at giving the other space. A silence that no one had broken until now. 

 

Sasha makes it to Becky’s floor dreading the minute it will take to walk to her door, knock, and wait idly for Becky decide how to cross this bridge. And it's not like Sasha doesn’t trust her, but there will always be a looming fear that the people she loves will let her down.

 

But Sasha doesn’t have to knock, because Becky is waiting in the hallway, perhaps to get rid of her more quickly, Sasha thinks, but it’s the wrong answer, because Becky is smiling.

 

The orange haired wrestler is holding a heart shaped balloon and unsurprisingly another envelope.

 

Sasha approaches with a sheepish smile, trying to feed off Becky’s seemingly positive energy while still combating the happy tears that have coated her cheeks since Bayley’s first letter.

 

“Hi” Sasha greets like a sour apology, a question of where they stand.

 

“Hey” Becky answers her like she understands, her furrowed brow contrasting her bright smile.

 

They stand there for a moment in silence waiting for someone to say something. Becky doesn’t move to hand Sasha the envelope or the balloon, and Sasha doesn’t move to take it. 

 

“Sorry. For being so blunt before” Becky offers, realizing that the silent treatment or whatever they’re doing is stupid, and their friendship derserves more than what she’s done. 

 

Sasha smiles then, settles any of the worry Becky had left.

 

“No, don’t be. You were right.”

 

Becky lets a short laugh then, like she’s already forgotten what was even awkward between them, like the prospect of losing Sasha at this point is unthinkable.

 

“For the record,” Becky starts again looking to her feet momentarily for moral support, “When I was being so harsh to ya, I didn’t know the lass was about to go out and do all this” she clarifies, gesturing to the balloon and the rose in Sasha’s hand. 

 

Sasha laughs then too, wiping away the tears that still continue their reign. She steps forward to pull Becky into a hug and the Irelander allows it, holding her close for a long moment, a whisper of “I’m so happy for you guys” as Sasha sniffles into Becky’s shoulder.

 

When they pull apart Sasha barrates herself lightly for being overly emotional, but Becky just smiles, lets the gentle volcano continue to erupt. 

 

Becky hands over the balloon and the next envelope before gesturing toward her apartment door, “I guess I better leave you alone with Mr.Balloon”

 

Sasha only gives her a nod, not wanting to say goodbye, but not wanting to put anymore time between her and Bayley. Sasha opens the envelope when the door is closed once more.

 

“ _ You take air from my lungs when I look into your eyes _

_ A welcome comfort after all this time _

_ I thought a balloon would be a nice surprise _

_ But you’ll have to keep looking to find your prime _

 

_ Find me where you learned to love yourself again” _

 

Sasha has had a lot of moments of baby steps, of finding new ways to cope and better ways to breathe. There have been times of joyous epiphany and scars made less visible. And while almost all of those moments are tied directly to Bayley in her head, the location was not always necessarily in Bayley’s arms. 

 

Sasha understands the answer after a short time of thought.

 

Hunter’s office.

 

“Thank you, Becks” Sasha breathes out, her hand on the outside of the door, on a hunch that Becky was pressed to the otherside listening in, as if she could hear Sasha’s inner thoughts.

 

Becky lets out a short squeal at being caught before releasing a short “you’re welcome” sending Sasha on her way.

 

Hunter’s office is pretty empty today, no one waiting for him or any other therapists in the waiting room. When Sasha gets there, the only person there is Charlotte. Sasha should have known better than to assume anything less.

 

She reaches the counter after noisily fighting her balloon through the door, but still Charlotte doesn’t look up, doesn’t move in relation to the sound. 

 

“Hey, Char” Sasha says like she's expecting Charlotte to act in accordance with her presence. Charlotte has to know what’s going on, but the blonde doesn’t lift her eyes from her computer screen.

 

“Can I help you today, Ms. Banks?” Charlotte’s voice finds the air in a bored tone Sasha has never heard before, making her think for half a second that she’d come to the wrong place.

 

But seconds later, Sasha can see the budding smile on Charlotte’s lips, the way she bites her cheek to hide her teeth. 

 

“Alright, ya got me!” Charlotte confesses letting her smile spring free, before pushing her swivel chair away from her computer and toward a nearby countertop. She returns a moment later with a tupperware container filled with what appears to be chicken noodle soup.

 

“Here. Now go be blissfully in love.” Charlotte hands it over like the item requires no further questions. But it must be right, as another envelope sits securely on top of the plastic container. 

 

That’s when it hits her. The soup that Sasha had made for Bayley when she was sick, mostly to shut her up, but also because perhaps she was too harsh slamming the door in her face. Their second interaction, but the first time Sasha had shown Bayley her heart. 

Bayley had thought that her neighbor was drawing a line in the sand then, but she broke down new walls when she knocked on her door and offered her comfort in the form of medicine and chicken soup.

 

“ _ The container that you gave me _

_ When I thought I was alone _

_ Chicken soup feels pretty close _

_ But you are my home _

 

_ Find me where it all began” _

 

Sasha doesn’t have to think about her next destination.

 

It all began when Sasha didn’t stop and wonder what Bayley could bring into her life, when she didn’t give her a moment to wiggle her way in, when Sasha slammed the door in her new neighbor’s face without a second thought. It all feels too comical now, after everything. And Sasha wonders if she would have known what Bayley would bring her back then, would she still have closed that door, built up her defenses, or would she have taken a hammer to the wall between their apartments herself. And she knows fear would win even then, knowing that change is the hardest pill to swallow. But thinking is not for the present. Now is for doing.

 

But Sasha still isn’t sure what to do. Other than fall into waiting arms and be whisked away. But love doesn’t solve all your problems, she remembers Hunter saying, and she knows the looming clouds of darkness are steadily in the background, and the butterflies of recovery will always be at the forefront of her mind. But Bayley is her safe place, away from a world that can feel like too much most of the time, a necessary resting place for truths and safe keeping. 

 

What she isn’t expecting is another letter. Its taped to the door again. Blue this time, like something bright, something new. 

 

“ _ I’m tired of waiting and wondering and thinking too hard. You’ve awarded me with a taste of the love we could have and I want to savor every drop, to never again take for granted the air that fills your lungs, the time the universe has given us. I don’t care if you still feel like nothing sometimes, I want to be the person that reminds you that life is worth living, I want to be there in the darkness and the light. I want you and all of the things that make you human. I’m in love you and I’m ready if you are. _ ”

 

The words hit her in all the right ways, a plunge into great depths, touching on emotion she didn’t know she had. If she wasn’t crying before she is now. 

 

She knocks on her own door and let’s the moment of vulnerability seel her fate. And it doesn’t take long for the door to be opened.

 

There’s two people standing on opposite sides of a door frame, really looking at each other for all they are for the first time.

 

And Sasha isn’t sure what to do, crying herself blind, clutching tightly to her balloon, her rose, her letters, and her container of soup. And Bayley looks at her, holding a similar plastic container.

 

And Sasha can’t make herself speak, too overcome with emotion, but Bayley speaks for her.

 

“That’s so funny. You brought soup too!” Bayley quips joyously, as if she wasn’t behind this whole scheme. And Sasha is confused for a second, until the weight of it settles against her and she realizes that this is easy. It feels like coming home. She hears herself laughing before she knows that she’s doing it. And suddenly everything is okay. 

 

But Bayley can’t watch her struggle in the threshold of the door anymore, the look on her face similar to that of a panic attack, a consequence that Bayley never intended. So she takes the items from Sasha’s hands before her fingers give out and cause them to hit the floor. Bayley moves toward the kitchen, placing the items on the counter, not realizing that Sasha is following behind her until she turns around.

 

“Hi” Sasha says in a voice that feigns control, as she pushes up on her tiptoes into Bayley’s personal space. Their faces coming together to rest their foreheads together.

 

“Hello” Bayley breaths like it’s the most important thing she’s ever said. 

 

Sasha closes her eyes, places her hands around Bayley’s hips to pull her in, savors the moment of closeness. Bayley takes Sasha’s face between her hands, strokes wet cheeks.

 

And Sasha wants this more than anything, but she’s always let Bayley decide where they stand. And now is no different. It isn’t until Sasha opens her eyes to see Bayley still staring back at her that she realizes what she’s waiting for. 

 

“Are you ready?” Bayley asks, because as much as Sasha is allowing her to take the reigns, she still wants the okay. Consent. 

 

Sasha nods minutely, trying to keep the close proximity. 

 

Bayley kisses Sasha and it doesn’t feel like something untouchable. Because they are right here, loving each other without walls in between. Bayley isn’t holding back for anyone’s sake anymore, Sasha isn’t worrying herself sick with the implications. This feels real. Tangible. Something they can’t ignore, can’t turn back from.

 

Sasha kisses back and it isn’t a cry for help, but a plea to never let go again, to be together, to stay together.

 

Bayley’s mind races with all the things they’ll have now. All the kisses she can reach for without asking, the cuddles that won’t feel like a stand in for something more intimate, the way they’ll hold hands and Becky won’t question the validity, so Charlotte can ask and Bayley can tell. The words they’ll share, the strong “good morning”s, the gentle “good night”s, the promise of “I love you” into lips and necks and hips. 

 

The only thoughts going through Sasha’s mind now are of love, of Bayley’s lips, her hands on her body. If she holds on too desperately, it’s not because she’s afraid either of them will run away, but to make up for the lost time. 

 

The time she used to assume the worst, over kissing Bayley and leaving her scars in the dirt. And she can’t regret it now, the journey just as sweet as the reward. She can’t be mad at a pathway that brought her here. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi and also hello
> 
> Um so it’s been like longer than usual since I updated which (please hold for excuses) like IT WAS MY 20TH BIRTHDAY and like my friends are about to go back to school and ya!!! Life stuff! But also I didn’t want to write this chapter(even think about writing this chapter) because now it feels like there’s a solid end coming in the next few chapters...
> 
> Which like is sad because I’m going to miss this fic and the community of it and how into you guys are! But also I lowkey never wanna write this particular fic ever again..I’ve never written a fic this long and I’m usually burnt out of it by like chapter 10...BUT IM STILL INTO THIS
> 
> but they’re finally like together at least, I really had no clue how they were actually getting together until I wrote the summary for this chapter like a few days ago and I think it fits well with everything, I like the concept enough to post it ig lol
> 
> I kind of feel like my general flow of writing is off in this chapter but maybe I’m just stressed and overthinking....haha thinking 
> 
> I’m glad we’ve made it this far in the journey. All yalls support is imperative to the outcome so thank you for real. Only a few chapters left so stay tuned
> 
> Sorry for the babbles but it be necessary
> 
> Wait also: was anyone else in severe pain from Sasha's comments on raw? How could she talk about our hugger like that? For real tho, if WWE wanted to have a respectful feud between Sasha and Bayley i'm so here for them to duke it out to see who comes out on top, BUT IF THEY THINK FOR A SECOND THAT WERE GONNA BELIEVE THAT THEY HATE EACH OTHER AGAIN THEY GOT ANOTHER THING COMING 
> 
> anyway in my head Sasha went back into gorilla like "IM SORRY BAYLEY I LOVE YOU PLS NEVER LEAVE ME" so


	21. Lover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhhh,,,smut????

Lov·er

/ˈləvər/

_Noun_

_1._ a person having a sexual or romantic relationship with someone, often outside marriage.

 

\----

 

The first time feels like the moon finally settling against the sun, an eclipse of comforting heat, a fireplace built for two. When Sasha pulls Bayley toward her bed room, she isn’t surprised, but a gasp still reaches her mouth, the cool of Sasha’s fingers in her palm, the yearning pull.

 

There’s something to be said about the way Bayley holds her, delicate but permanent, a sturdy hand under weight trying to balance itself. There’s safety there, a home in unparalleled fingerprints and the way they dance against Sasha’s bare ribcage. 

 

It’s quiet for a long time, savoring every inch of Sasha’s face, as their noses bump together over and over, a reminder of the newness of their confessed vow. Bayley’s teeth break their kisses more than anything else, and Sasha only giggles every time, moving to take Bayley’s lower lip into her mouth every time she smiles. They lay together like they have a million times, but this time their facing each other, facing this head on, not being afraid of who they are and what they have together. Under Sasha’s sheets, the sun pours in through the fabric as it sets outside her second story window. Sasha smiles knowing that when the sun is gone, her light will still be here. 

 

Sasha feels for the latch of Bayley’s bra, leaving enough time for Bayley to stop her hands if necessary, wanting to bare themselves to each other, but never wanting to push too hard. And there’s a moment of dark contemplation as Bayley removes herself from Sasha’s proximity until she’s sitting up, straddling Sasha on the bed. She comes to take the hand that previously graced her back in an effort to remove her bra, kissing her knuckles, before placing her other hand on Sasha’s face, searching her eyes one last time, because sure, Sasha had initiated this, but it wasn’t completely lost on Bayley that this was a big step. Because Sasha had never slept with a woman before. Because Sasha hadn’t been with anyone since Finn. Because the emotions were still raw, and maybe they should wait. 

 

But Bayley’s silent plea of “are you sure?” was only met with bright eyes. Sasha sits up under the weight of Bayley’s thighs around her to instigate the first kiss free of laughter, it’s hard against Bayley’s mouth as if to say “100%”.

 

And Bayley is surely convinced now, pulling her own shirt over her head, unhooking her own bra, a display of trust for the woman under her. And Sasha had spent many nights asleep pressed into Bayley’s chest, but this still felt new, like a new page to Sasha’s favorite book, more leaves on her favorite tree. 

 

There’s serene exploration after that, of Sasha’s cold fingers against the warmth of Bayley’s breasts, flat thumbs coming over hard nipples.

 

They settle into a back and forth of removing clothing and finding the will to take it slow. Bayley takes the reigns in an effort to smother any of the nerves she can read through Sasha’s shaking hands, the evasion of eye contact since Bayley had stripped her naked. But there isn't any judgement, just Bayley rubbing her hands in a quiet reminder of “it’s just me”.

 

Bayley kisses her as she touches her, a slow descent into pure intimacy. The quiet whimpers coming out of Sasha’s mouth are caught against Bayley’s lips. Her fingers push into her like a beck and call, a waiting and an answer that comes shortly after. Sasha doesn’t take long to crash over the edge, the build up wracking her body more than anything, the motion of Bayley’s fingers in even strokes that cascade through any of her dark thoughts, erasing the clouds overhead for the time being.

 

And Bayley takes the moment of pure elation as a memory she won’t forget, the look of Sasha’s face, her eyes closed, nose scrunched up, mouth slightly open, lays permanently etched into her brain. Bayley places a gentle kiss on every surface of her face, quieting any stray whimpers, praising any aftershocked moans, a comfort in the love Bayley speckles across Sasha’s cheeks, nose, forehead, and chin. 

 

Bayley moves to give Sasha some space then, moves off of her to allow the air in the room to push against the impossible heat of Sasha’s golden skin. But Sasha pulls her back immediately, finds Bayley’s waist and settles just below her naked chest, never wanting space between them ever again.

 

Bayley is content lying here, Sasha’s arms around her, knowing she created the exhausted pleasure radiating off her. She thinks Sasha is just about asleep when she feels eyelashes flutter against her ribcage, the press of lips above her belly button, before they start to trace an invisible line between her breasts. Sasha takes extra care here, as her hands glide over every expanse of exposed skin, leaving Bayley feeling immensely significant. Her lips continue their mission in wake of the path of her hands, once again settling on Bayley’s breasts, kneading what she could grasp onto, applying steady pressure. The kisses hesitate over Bayley’s heart, a moment of prolonged eye contact, followed by Sasha’s lips over the flesh that separates her from the object of Bayley’s love, the lighthouse that Sasha will always find her way back to. Her forehead settles there too for a moment, a halt in everything to remind them that this is far from just physical. 

 

Sasha looks up to find Bayley patiently waiting for her, hands that come up to hold her neck, a sturdy reminder that Bayley gets it, knows exactly what this means for both of them. The look on Bayley’s face puts Sasha’s little game of soft kisses on hold. She lurches up to capture Bayley’s lips between hers, a passion in the way she pushes forward, as if she wants Bayley and herself to become one with the bed, never leave the confines of sanity ever again. 

 

“I love you” is whispered in a desperate plea against Bayley’s lips, and then again into her neck, Sasha’s favorite hiding place. And Bayley can only laugh at the way Sasha makes herself so small after confessing something so big. 

 

“I love you too, baby” Bayley answers back pressing a kiss to the side of Sasha’s head, she says it in her regular speaking voice, wanting Sasha to believe it, not caring who hears it, letting the words fill the room, settle against the silence they created. 

 

It’s not long before Bayley feels eyelashes brush against her skin again, this time against her pulse point, followed by an exasperated breath on her collarbone. Sasha pushes herself up looking ready for sleep, but the trail of kisses starts itself up again until she’s moving downward, finding comfort settling between Bayley’s thighs. Bayley takes a fist full of Sasha’s hair bracing herself as Sasha plants delicate kisses on her inner thigh. 

 

\----

 

Sasha settles against Bayley’s chest like a child, searching for Bayley’s eyes from her snuggled position as the brunette comes down from her second orgasm. As her breath comes back to normal, Bayley’s hands find Sasha’s hair once more, but this time to flatten the knots she created, brush the excess strands from her eyes. It's a moment of static, save for two hearts still beating erratically, and Bayley’s thumb moving through Sasha’s hair. Two pairs of brown eyes stay fixed together, no longer looking for anything else.

 

\----

 

Becky and Charlotte sort of assume that everything worked out, and decide to leave Sasha and Bayley alone for a few days while they continue to skate around the mounting feelings they have for each other. 

 

Sasha invites them over for dinner a few nights later over text. Becky answers with a searing comment of “im not tryna eat in ur sex den”,  Charlotte sends the eye rolling emoji followed by “sounds good, i’ll see you then”.

 

When Charlotte arrives it’s all smiles, both women greeting her with a hug, a gracious energy in the way Charlotte is always so gentle. It feels like a celebration, a party to commemorate the new qualities of Sasha’s and Bayley’s relationship, the friendship they all share, the fact that they’re all alive and breathing. 

 

When Becky arrives, the air changes. She looks at Charlotte strangely, like she doesn’t want her here. Like its too much to bare. Sasha tries to ignore it at first, but Becky pulls her aside leaving Bayley and Charlotte in the kitchen setting the table. 

 

They walk to Sasha’s bedroom, hoping to instigate some space between themselves and Charlotte. 

 

“I’m freaking out” Becky says once the door is closed behind them.

 

“Well, that’s apparent” Sasha counters seeming unbothered.

 

“Is it weird if I tell Charlotte here? Like with you guys here?” Becky rambles.

 

“I mean, yeah. But you can. She likes you, Becks, it’s not gonna make a difference.”

 

The words settle against Becky’s ears, calm her down for the time being. Sasha moves to put her hands on Becky’s shoulders, bring her back to Earth a little more. The contact is startling for a moment, like it reminded Becky of where she was, who she was talking to. 

 

“Sorry,” Becky pushes out, trying to make up for the few days they haven’t spoken, “how are you? How’s Bayls?”

 

“Really good” Sasha soothes in a voice that tells Becky not to worry, a tone that sounds like even Sasha believes the words.

 

“Did you sleep together yet? How is she?” Becky suddenly whispers, like they had any chance of hearing it, sounding more excited than a child about to get ice cream.

 

Sasha purses her lips then, a lapse in judgement where she’s trying to decide if it’s information she’s trying to divulge, if it’s a line she’s willing to cross without Bayley’s permission, but the decision is made when she sees just how excited the other woman is. _It’s just Becky_ she thinks before offering a short nod.

 

“Really good” She says again, this time with an exasperated breath, like she herself still can’t believe it. 

 

But Sasha doesn’t have time to spare her any of the dirty details as Charlotte’s voice calls out from the kitchen, “Food’s ready”.

 

When they enter the room, Charlotte easily notices Becky’s nerves, shooting her a soft “Are you okay?” as she moves to hold her hand. Becky only swallows before a half convincing “yeah”. But Charlotte is still looking at her in question as they sit down. 

 

They sit around Sasha’s tiny dining room table, barely fitting, but it doesn’t matter, as long as they’re in each other’s company. The four have never known awkward silence and now is no different, easily slipping into conversation about their days, always quickly finding topics that other friends might stray away from. 

 

Charlotte cuts off the flow of conversation with a calculated breath.

 

“Soooo, you two are officially together now, right?” She asks like she’s been holding her breath for all the time that they’ve known each other. 

 

“Yep” Bayley voices quickly, Sasha looking pleased, her hand coming to cover Bayley’s under the table. 

 

“Good” Becky cuts in, “you were starting to get annoying”.

 

Sasha and Bayley can’t do more than laugh at the irony, that Becky is still pining for Charlotte, that Becky thinks Charlotte doesn’t share the same feelings, that neither of them will make a move. 

 

Charlotte laughs too, but there’s something else behind it, a question, maybe a little pain. 

 

They all hear it, but no one says anything as silence follows.

 

But the moment doesn’t take up too much space in their evening as a soft “fuck it” can be heard in an Irish accent shortly after. 

 

And Becky is standing now, moving to climb onto the chair. 

 

“Charlotte Flair” She starts from her new position, now standing 3 feet above them, saying the name like a regal queen that she is ravished by the mere presence of. Bayley covers her face then, the secondhand embarrassment suddenly too much to bare. Sasha reaches for her phone, ready to film whatever is about to go down. 

 

“I like you. A lot. And i have since I met you. I think you’re the prettiest girl I ever saw. And you make me laugh like nobody else. And I just really, really like you.” 

 

They’re still for a moment, thinking the confession is over. Charlotte is smiling brighter than usual. It’s no intense scavenger hunt around the city, but Charlotte wasn’t hard to please.

 

“And I don't want to get as annoyingly clueless about it as they were” Becky adds, prompting a protest of “Hey!” from Sasha, and Bayley’s napkin being thrown at her. 

 

Charlotte laughs again, this time there isn’t a second layer, just short lilts of joy. 

 

“Charlotte Flair, will you like go out with me? Or be my girlfriend? Or at least give me some sort of response?” she all but begs, still standing on Sasha’s chair.

 

“That was desperate” Sasha fake whispers to Bayley, with the full intention for Becky to hear it. 

 

“Shush” Becky cries, looking in Sasha’s direction for the second it takes to get the word out, before returning her gaze to Charlotte’s blue irises. 

 

Charlotte wears a gentle smirk as they wait idly for an answer.

 

“Can you sit down, you weirdo?” Charlotte asks, in place of an actual answer.

 

“Is that a no?” Becky asks as she moves to get down.

 

“It’s not a yes.” Sasha quips again, but Bayley is the one to shush her this time. She laughs a little too openly at her girlfriend’s comment as she places her hand over Sasha’s mouth to stop anymore unwelcome jokes. 

 

It doesn’t matter either way. Becky is too concerned with the blonde in front of her to pay Sasha any mind. 

 

Charlotte surges forward in a move that surprises all of them, holding onto one of Becky’s cheeks before connecting their lips in a firm, but short kiss. 

 

Sasha does her part in releasing a loud gagging sound behind Bayley’s hand still loosely covering her mouth. Bayley smiles at the expression of love in front of her.

 

When they pull away, Becky looks like a cartoon dog who just got hit by a car, a circle of birds flying around her head. Charlotte only looks at her like she’s won the biggest prize at the fair.

 

\----

 

Sasha’s first day as a social work major feels right. Like a step in a planned direction. Bayley packs them both lunch even though they’ll be heading separate ways. 

Spring was about new flowers. A friendship. Protection, coping. An understanding of human nature, and just how complex we all can be.

 

 

Summer was for healing, for really falling in love. Summer was filled with a passion they won’t forget, even when the rain is coming down and the wind is bustling in. They’ll carry the love into the new school year with Bayley’s new students, and Sasha’s new professors. And all will see the glow of their smiles. Bayley’s student’s won’t ask about the scar on Bayley’s arm. Sasha won’t be afraid to use her experiences to her advantage.

 

They get on different trains on the subway. A kiss “goodbye”. But they aren’t afraid of the space pressed between them. 

 

Bayley watches her walk away, a moment where her heart feels empty, but she’s comforted by the fact that Sasha knows where home is. In fall, when the leaves come down on New York City sidewalks and the sun sets earlier in the afternoon, the street lights will guide her there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! i've never written any type of sexual content before, so this was weird. I kept texting Uma(real life friend who i be mentioning in all thes end notes, who happens to write dope ass Fall Out Boy fic on here, so if ur tryna read it...her name is Emeraldcitydowntowngirl...) anyway i kept texting her while writing this that "I RESPECT THEM TOO MUCH" to be writing dirty ass shit...so this is what yall got, i hope it was tasteful and poetic and just the right amount of pg13 for you. 
> 
> i jokingly texted her that the chapter summary was "Its like them crying at each other while Bayleys taking a strap and their both yelling "I LOVE YOU BITCH" "NO! I LOVE YOU BITCH" and sis' only argument was "i thought Bayley was the top" ,,,,and i hate to say it but i agree  
> (hope yall like this one cuz i aint writing that version)
> 
> anyway. i think this might be it. Ive been toying with the idea of an epilogue chapter, like 5 years in the future maybe? but idk? like some of you mentioned how the last chapter felt like an ending. And this one sort of feels like an ending to... but i want to write one final hurrah of soft Baysha in this universe and then ill leave yall alone
> 
> and finally. I have a lot of opinions about two evil wives and im always ready to discuss. LIke @all of it:YESSSSS, but also i hope wwe handles this storyline well and it isnt lke another throw away thing that ends up not adding to the over all theme, idk im babbling, thx for putting up with me for 21 chapters and 50 k words 
> 
> oh last thing, we moved up from 7th most kudoed Baysha fic to 6th.... yes i be checking. I love all humans, especially those adding to the fandom, but the competitive LEO IN ME NEEDS TO MAKe it a competition. And tbh ILL take 6th place no problem....


	22. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5 years later

Bayley drives Becky to the church looking at the metal band around her own ring finger. Her wedding day is kind of a blur at this point. She remembers Sasha in her dress. The makeup running down her face. She chuckles out loud and Becky asks her why. 

 

“I was just thinking about how much Sasha cried on our wedding day.” Bayley explains around a smile.

 

“Happy tears” Becky adds, laughing herself, remembering Charlotte’s face when Sasha cried through the make up she’d just applied within 5 minutes of putting it on.

 

Becky reminded Charlotte that it didn’t matter, that Bayley loved Sasha just as much with running mascara and washed away concealer. 

 

“Remember to take it slow today,” Bayley offers, suddenly sounding serious, “you only get to do this once.”

 

“Unless Charlie decides to leave me for someone with a less violent profession” Becky jokes alluding to her growth in the wrestling ranks over the past 5 years of her still growing career.

 

Bayley doesn’t laugh. Instead she moves her hand up to blindly swipe at Becky’s exposed shoulder, her eyes still on the road in front of her, not wanting to hit Becky’s flowing white dress or its billowing lower half currently filling all of the passenger side of Bayley’s SUV.

 

Sasha told them to rent a limo like she had for the rest of the wedding party. Becky insisted against it. Becky didn’t like unnecessary spectacle. It was enough that she was in a sparkly white dress.

 

“Don’t make jokes like that.” Bayley insists after her physical reprimanding. 

 

“Ow! This is why I like Sasha better” 

 

“I could turn the car around ya know” Bayley suggests as she jokingly checks their surroundings, looking ready to make a u-turn. 

 

Becky laughs, throwing her closer hand onto Bayley’s arm in an effort to keep her hands in place on the steering wheel. “I was joking, I love you more” Becky rushes out in a forceful plea, laughing when Bayley just grasps the wheel tighter in response, looks proud of herself for capturing the spot of “favorite” for the time being.

 

——

 

Bayley walks down the aisle in time to the piano playing, holding a small arrangement of white and red roses, in her dark maroon dress, matching Sasha who’s waiting alone next to the minister at the end of the aisle. Sasha smiles at her, winks a little too aggressively like she’s trying to flirt, causing Bayley to have to stifle a laugh as she gets closer to the altar. She peeks down momentarily to the growing bump over Sasha’s abdomen. It’s a welcome reminder every time she sees her, that they’re going to be mothers, that Sasha has come so far that she’s able to nurture herself, nurture their relationship, nurture a child of their own. And Bayley knows that it’ll be hard, has already got a taste of it with the morning sickness and the mood swings. But she secretly can’t wait for it to get harder. To be woken up in the middle of the night to get Sasha pickles and ice cream, to carry all her things, to baby Sasha more than she already does. She can’t wait to have her hand squeezed to the point of losing feeling in the delivery room and meet their new piece of happiness. And she can’t deny that Sasha is more and more beautiful everyday: the fullness in her cheeks, the glow she wears evidently. 

 

Bayley makes it to the end of the aisle takes her place on the side that will ultimately be Charlotte’s.

 

Bayley and Sasha keep eye contact for a moment a stare of pure adoration before Bayley is mouthing a pointed warning of “Don’t cry”

 

Sasha squints, pursing her lips, placing a hand flat against her rounded belly, looking utterly offended. The reaction only makes Bayley smile bigger.

 

Their attention is caught by the presence of Becky and her father coming in through the doors and starting their dissent down the aisle.

 

Bayley is suddenly struck by the feeling of tears herself, feeling kind of silly for telling Sasha not to. How could she not? Their best friends are getting married. 

 

Becky takes her place next to Sasha after her father kisses her on the cheek and starts the metaphoric “giving away” of his daughter. Becky immediately moves to take Sasha’s hand after nodding toward the minister. A need to feel something tangible to keep her up right in a moment like this.

 

“Just breathe” Sasha whispers for only Becky to hear, words of advice she herself would’ve liked to hear the day of her wedding.

 

And Becky listens, takes 2 deep breaths before nodding, an indication that she was alright.

 

When Charlotte and her father become visible, it’s like the whole room shares a collective gasp. Even Bayley and Sasha are stunned, having been there with Charlotte and her mother, when Charlotte had originally chosen the dress, and again when she took it for alterations, but something was so different about it now. More real. The blonde of her hair In elegant waves, an elegant crown braid to match the one tucked into the side of Becky’s up do, the rest pulled back in a secure bun. The glitter on her eyelids, making the blue of her irises that much more beautiful. She’s never looked more happy, a close second being the day Becky proposed, a closed lipped smile masking the wetness of her eyeballs

 

“I do’s” are said in certain whispers. And Becky is looking at Charlotte like she had when she’d kiss her for the first time in Sasha’s tiny dining room. And Charlotte is remembering all the instances when she knew that Becky was exactly what she wanted. They kiss in a blessed relief that the universe truly has a plan. A way of guiding us to a purposed destination to thrive.  And soon enough their outside in the sun, crying, smiling, throwing bird seed for good luck, “rice isn’t good for the birds” Bayley had protested when they were making wedding arrangements. And maybe Bayley is crying a little harder than Sasha, but Sasha saves the “I told you so,” just laughs when Bayley pouts at her, lifts her head to kiss her wife. 

 

—-

 

Bayley drives home that night in the dark with Sasha in the passenger seat fast asleep with the seat pushed back, her mouth slightly open, her blue curls falling off the head rest and toward the ground. Bayley keeps glancing over taking in her wife’s features in the glow of the street lights. 

 

Sasha seems out cold and Bayley’s glad for it after a long night of climatic emotions, celebration, and dancing. They have work in the morning. And Bayley will be happy to drive them there in the morning as Sasha doses off once again. 

 

She glances at the metal band flickering in the moving light on her left ring finger like she had earlier in the day. She gets lost in a space there, watching the road ahead, but keeping her left hand on the top of the steering wheel, the ring at the edge of her lower peripheral. The darkness of the day leaves space for her brain to project the last 6 years of her life onto the windshield. 

 

The violence. The seemingly everlasting fear. The courthouse. The sorrowful tears. The panic. The radiating fear. The desperation. The struggle. 

 

The wanting for better. The support. The friendship. The growth.

 

The love. The loyalty. The commitment. Proposing. When she said yes and she felt like she’d never known more truth. Getting married in a memory that feels like she’s having a heart attack. Where she remembers a little more than what Sasha looked like, the sound of “I do” on her lips, and the feel of their first kiss as a state bonded unit. 

 

And now. A job she loves where she gets to see her wife everyday. Her wife, she still can’t believe that. How far they’ve come. Individually and together. Where she has two best friends that she would do anything for, who have found love in their own right, who make her want to do better everyday. 

 

And a baby on the way. 

 

She finds herself crying at the utter relief settling against her bones. They made it. It all comes abundantly clear in an instant and she’s crying again softly, trying to get them home safely, trying not to wake Sasha up. 

 

But she looks over again and Sasha is awake, watching her. Bayley feels embarrassed then, a nervous chuckle escaping her as she rushes to wipe her tears away and turns back to keep her eyes on the road. 

 

“Bay”, Sasha instigates in a groggy but strong voice, “I love you” she reaches for Bayley’s free right hand, pulling it up to her mouth to kiss her knuckles, intertwining their fingers before resting their joined hands between them. 

 

The words only make new tears where Bayley has just wiped old ones away. She can’t bring herself to say “I love you” back for the time being, afraid it will break what’s left of her resolve.

 

But Sasha knows, can feel it in the way she squeezes her hand against the gear shift, in the way Bayley kisses her good morning, finds her in her office everyday at work to go on lunch together, the way she backtracks on possible fights before they can get intense, the way she holds her in her sleep, the way she is patient and always there and always ready. 

 

Sasha has never felt more secure than in this moment, with Bayley doing 45 in a 30 mph zone, her generous tears making her vision blurry, one hand busy in Sasha’s.   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sisters! Brothers(any dudes reading this???)! Non-binary siblings! It’s over.
> 
> She’s short, but she exists so (she=the epilogue)
> 
> I’m grateful. Like super grateful for anyone who gave this fic the time of day and Ik I keep expressing that...BUT IM EXPRESSING IT ONE LAST TIME OKAY!!!
> 
> Uma convinced me to write the epilogue when I was about to start a new fic and forget his existed for a while. So send her ur gratitude...
> 
> I’m currently writing this in a car and wrote this entire chapter in a car. I’m driving home to New York from North Carolina and it ain’t cool (TEN HOURS :/ ... so idk if this is gonna post cuz we lowkey in the middle of nowhere and the internet be spotty...but have fun, I hope you didn’t cry while reading cuz I sure as hell cried while writing like a little bitch silently cuz I ain’t tryna tell my driving mother that I’m crying about gay fan fiction...anyway
> 
> I LOVE YOU GUYS! THBAK YOU! Good bye!

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading. pls leave a comment and kudos if you enjoyed. New chapters coming soon.
> 
> eyesfadefromgreentogray on tumblr
> 
> Story Playlist on Spotify: Can I Break Down Your Walls?  
> (Recommendations welcome)


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